Where I live, April can be a moody enchantress—dancing between joy and sorrow, sunshine and storm. This little tribute captures her magic and mischief perfectly:
In the golden hush of morningShe glides down the stairs like sunshine in motion,
Laughter like bubbles twirling in a potion. 
Her smile is treasure, pure and bright—
And wrapped in that soft morning light,
Her name must surely be Joy. 
But when twilight tiptoes inAnd the book room grows still and dim,
We read old ballads, soft and slow,
As gentle tears begin to flow. 
They fall like rain to bring her peace,
And in that moment’s quiet release,
I know her name is Grief. 
Oh, April Lady, wild and wiseYou paint the skies and hush our cries.
With petal spells and stormy flair,
You stir the winds and scent the air. 
You bloom and break us all at once—
A spellbound springtime dance. 
But when your moods at last grow stillAnd peace rests soft, as doves hearts will—
The joy and ache you’ve left behind
Melt into something so divine…
For with all your magic, tears, and mirth,
Your truest name is Love. 
TRY THIS: 
As April weaves her moods—sunbeams and shadows, petals and puddles—watch how they stir your own inner world. Reflect, breathe, and bloom with her.
As April weaves her moods—sunbeams and shadows, petals and puddles—watch how they stir your own inner world. Reflect, breathe, and bloom with her.