A fish dripping
All April night clear water runs
All day I follow
All day there will be blue raindrops and the swell
All days were night before this day's dear prime
Along the line of smoky hills
An iris-flower with topaz leaves
April is no month for burials
Aptness shall come from whence
As gulls sift current for their need
A sudden flash of heat
A warm rain whispers, but the earth knows best
A wing of snow