HomeSouthern Voicethe second of April

the second of April

by David Alexander McFarland
Spring announces itself in wind that
swirls leaves in little tornadoes, blows
over the recycling cart. Paper, cans
and plastic seem to have lives, swimming
boldly away from their confinement.
Already the power’s out.
The fridge is warming,
the house cooling,
windows rattling, unnerving
us both, making us snappish.
At the top of the hill, in the open,
frozen leaves rush together,
rush toward a common destination.
So many escaped the rakes, the sacks,
composters, burning—coming out of ravines,
ditches, yards where people could not or
would not manage them last fall—
the old or ill, the lazy, or those overwhelmed
by the Herculean task. The stop sign waggles to
everyone. Greeting or warning,
I cannot tell.
There’s warmth in the car, a rocking in the gusts—
somewhat pleasant. I could be lulled to sleep by it
in the afternoon when my body’s want overcomes
my desire. Warm sun in the window, a murmuring
almost below my hearing, plus a bit of rocking
can make me young again every day.
David Alexander McFarland grew up in north Alabama and lived in Huntsville for several years before going off to Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has lived in the Midwest ever since. His fiction, poetry and essays have appeared in Coe Review, Southern Humanities Review, Mississippi Review and Painted Bride Quarterly. Two poems were published last summer in Poem.

A Blur of White