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 he’s sat since Samhain
to terrify the passers-by.
They’ve 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.
—Edwin Chapman, 04-28-2003
On the pumpkin I carved before Samhain,
and brought to Beltane
.
