You can always tell it's April
By the sound of falling rain
That mystic, mournful music
As it trickles down the drain.
For the kiss of April showers
As it washes all the grass clean
And prepares the soil for flowers.
Which doesn't bode us good,
When that mini, manic maelstrom
Turns the lawn to liquid mud."
- Thomas Vaughan Jones, O' To Be in April