Farewell, Sweet May

 

Farewell, sweet belle, the dell is feathered with gold willow-down

The apple-orchard petals dazzle us, then drift, wind-blown

The dust of planting season settles in a green-spun mist

And dandelion-sunbeams turn to haloes silver-kissed

The garden holds the hope of brimming baskets, harvest-heaped

The meadow is the colour of a cup of tea, mint-steeped

The flower border burgeons with the beginning of blooms

Where all through May we sensed the whir of Mother Nature’s looms

The brook is full of minnows teased by Little Boy’s bare feet

The air is full of melodies of chirp and tweet-tweet-tweet

The pasture is a picnic blanket spread ‘neath heaven’s arch

Where dawn to dusk is longer than it was in middle March

Each day is like an invitation everyone receives

A gladness-celebration for the loveliness of leaves

The barren limb is laden with the hymns that you compose

A lush and plush percussion where the pleasant zephyr flows

Farewell, sweet belle, you did your part to make the heart rejoice

You spilled your pansy font and filled the bowers with your voice

Farewell, sweet belle, you always seem to disappear so soon

But we are not too blue because you always bring us June

© Janet Martin