A Sweet May-day
...est in Arcadia ego...
This early morning air: pellucid, refreshingly soft
A time of hush, just before that cacaphony
Of hope that marks a sweet May dawn - the lifter
Of moods, the harbinger of hope, the visionary self.
Filled with all the quiet majesty of an English breeze
Stirring the leafy canopy as the sun begins to
Shadow, half-created dappled zephyrs blow.
Mistress Serenity stirs to waken me with an echo
Of tranquillity, hinting, to me of that sense of 'quiddity',
That borderless 'whatness' of every living thing,
That fleetingly draws me to the marvels of every day
Butterflies, green leaves, bird-song, drift away
As thrushes build so do they sing. In May-time.
This palimpsest tells of our enduring stewardship
Of all the passing glories of this one-May day