Samhain
in April (St. Jack)
St. Jack sits, incorruptible,
in my April garden, mummified;
his head, as light as papier-maché,
grinning in the warm sunshine.
Other pumpkins have rotted,
other Gods have tumbled away,
but Jack sits where hes sat since Samhain
to terrify the passers-by.
Theyve almost gotten used to him,
my neighbor says, Why not let him
sit there and see what happens?
Indeed... Jack sees:
fat bumblebees cruise the trees,
pink buds open like doors;
yellow daffodils are blooming,
violets slowly creeping up the lawn
St. Jack sits, incorruptible,
looking smug, and amused, by it all.