Early April Wind Poem by Irina Doichinova

The quiet,
early April wind
touches discreetly
the blinder.
Dusk is dissolving
into darkness -
And the shapes are losing
Their sharpness.

An ephemeral
creature dances
against the window pane,
And I peer outside
from behind it.

The mystery of life
Is shrouded in this hour,
Loaded
With a quiet expectation
Of something
That is about to burst out,
Breaking free
From the lethargic
Grip of winter.

I open my window -
life is returning,
I listen to it
intently.