...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