Mr. May or May-cents...

Mr. May is one of those guys we wish

we could grab by his coat-tails

and pinch them in the door so he’ll stay a while longer…

Each treetop wears a chartreuse crown and gown of glorious green

A chattering of yellow rambles through yard, field and fence

Where ev’ry frond is like a prince and ev’ry flow’r a queen

And ev’ry moment, like a shiny come-and-spend-me cents

The birthplace of man’s woe wears wonder’s gladdest grin-and-bear

The air pours heaven’s elixir through skin and bone to hearts

And hope is like a pansy’s pretty smile, from ear to ear

The breeze sighs ‘snow is but a dream’ after winter departs

Earth’s living-room of bird and bloom and grass and garden nooks

Delights the very least of us with life’s most lovely joys

Heaven can wait when May opens its gates of warbling brooks

And all the things we hungered for beneath white-wreathed decoys

May makes us mindful of perennial truth; storms come to pass

And ‘nothing stays the same for long’ oh, look, first flowers fall

Where pageantry of posies pours through Time’s primed hour-glass

And soon the petal-snows of summer strew halls, autumnal  

© Janet Martin