The Melancholy Snowman Though stony-eyed, I watched the finches glide. The chimney smoke, the builder slide, At night, I gave the constellations words, The House, the Builder, and the Birds. My silver ear was filled with tree-ish taps, And twiggy fingers twitched with sap, I wondered if the rain would melt my heart, When, at a loss, I dripped apart. And then I found the key to my creation, There at the edge of transformation, I lost my head, but heard a peeper sing, And that made sense of everything! April a rondeau Once clear-eyed April, sky-blue dressed, Had cried all night in great distress, At winter’s loss, she left her grief, And sighing, grew a maple leaf, So, all that water served to bless! “These eyes of mine, I must confess, Have mourned a friend in wateriness, May I, like you, now breathe relief, Clear-eyed April?” “Of Mercy, yes, she is the guest, And washed in tears her Easter best, Adorn yourself in blue belief, In joy as long as strife is brief, And burgeon under sky,” expressed, Clear-eyed April. Once a high school Spanish teacher, Theresa Zappe is now a home educator in New York. She and her husband are much occupied with math, meals, science, soccer games, sentence diagrams, dirty dishes, Latin, and laundry.