The Third of April

for Quena

The world is fiddling now, on April Third:
      Twiddling its tendrils, weaving through the air
The notes, the thrilling trills and rills that stirred
      A soul to dance its life here as a prayer.
The world is singing now, on April Third:
      Sanctified songs of glory, songs that dare
To tickle pixies -- trickling laughs conferred
      To lift us prickling up and show us where
The world is dancing now, on April Third:
      Fox-trotting, dove-tailing, sky-leaping spheres
            Spinning beneath the smile-winged feet that run,
Bringing miles that watch the world turning, blurred
      Between her living loving laughing years:
            Another waltzing whirl around the sun.