Editor’s Note: This week’s column is brought to you by: the smushed bathroom roach at 9998 Ford Avenue, who caused my co-worker Jada to scream bloody murder in the middle of the afternoon while I was blissfully listening to R& B tunes. R.I.P. Bathroom Roach, you will (not) be missed.

Maybe the roach’s family can contact the Bryan County News for an obituary.

Back on the poetry grind, because April is National Poetry Month, of course! Here are some poems to help commemorate.

Spring, Edna St. Vincent Millay 

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

April Rain Song, Langston Hughes

 Let the rain kiss you Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops Let the rain sing you a lullaby The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk The rain makes running pools in the gutter The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night And I love the rain.

A Prayer in Spring, Robert Frost 

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still. For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil.