April brings storms
that rattle and shudder
against windows
with winds
that howl and whip
past the trees.
Pressed close enough
cheeks can feel fingertips
of something, someone
not quite there.
Pattering and scampering
outside
along the whirls in the glass
traced on the lazy afternoons.
In this room,
in this house,
all gods are welcome.
With hands around latches
there is no need of prayers
to call them here.
In the morning
the carpets will be spongy,
damp beneath feet,
and the curtains slick
to the touch.
Tonight however,
calls for bare faces
turned upwards
open
to the skies.
Writing and Works 
Yes, I spring is soggy. Nice take on the prompt. I like it. 😀
Thanks for the feedback
You are welcome.
Well done!
Thank you 😊
It’s a beautiful poem. Nicely penned. My favorite part is below…
Tonight however,
calls for bare faces
turned upwards
open
to the skies.