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NaPoWriMo.net prompt for April 4, 2016:

And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!

The Cruelest Month
I have tried, and tried and failed.
The cruelest month won’t call out to me.

What sings instead is early January
the year lies ahead, hazy bright

And calms my soul the September sun
dimming down,
glad tidings of autumn days to come

I think back even, to the greens of May
though summer never felt like relief
yet last year its lushness took me from beneath

The morning cold of December days
feels like I can breathe again
I half walk, half dance,
down the frosted streets

Even August in its peak of heat
has given me
beloved memory

No,
not one cruel month
calls out to me

to say that for any month would be cruelty

For there are signs in altering night and day
We deceive ourselves by the sun
when months are really pulled

by gleaming moonlight

never stopped in the same place
never telling of the same time.

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