April, My Admiral

April, my admiral,

lighten my wings with your shrill whistle,

                   lead me through the weaving air,

                                 guide me where the morning’s light hasn’t turned,

hide me in your sleet and help me steer around the potholes. 

April, my admiral,

as the shifting one, lead by example.

You are the spring in me, 

        if you are ready to open your wings, leave winter’s cocoon,

                                                                           take me with you. 

Let your voice slice through my daziness,

                        unfold before me a route that isn’t resistant. 

               Push me to fight the incline,

exist in the real time. 

April, my admiral,

spread your wings, so I may

                                      untangle 

                                              this mess I’ve made of mine.