May-green rushes like an emerald ocean
Over earth’s trestles of umber and gray
Burgeoning rivers without sound or motion
Waken a wonder-world long held at bay
Now every limb is a hymn of sighed pleasure
Shush-shushing croon tunes earth’s blue-rafter room
Now every hill is a vault filled with treasure
Eager to spill its full measure in bloom
May-green surges to where air-eons merge
With verdant shorelines soft touching its sky
Miser and merchant cannot own the splurge
Rendered by nature to each passerby
Splendor indulges earth’s common bulges
Beauty and duty a stunning alloy
Merry the mantra as dark divulges
May-morning mercy-streams singing with joy
How does one spell with a quill such pure wonder?
How, from a crypt that seems stripped of all life
Can landscapes thunder with May-greenest plunder
Leaping from slumber to grace human strife?
Oh, it compels us to give God glory
No one on earth can boast power as this
Where May-green opens a new summer story
Ravishing earth with new-birth’s holy kiss
© Janet Martin
I just finished
typing the word 'joy' at the end of the second stanza when sounds of ‘hoy, whoa!!’ drifted over May-green,
through the window-screen and what should
before my wondering eyes appear but a herd of cattle dashing, as giddy as
rebels crashing a garden-party… and they did! Straight through my garden they
thundered and one, feeling especially athletic sailed over the rail-fence
barricade, the rest of more matronly endowment plundered through the fence
after him with one clueless housewife giving chase!(I should have stayed in the house because they immediately bolted when they saw Miss Bed-head come a-flyin')
They are now in the process of corralling them in a neighbor’s
field. Trying morning for a farmer.
