The sounds of May, <br />Sunlight crescendos, <br />More eagerly birds frolic; <br />Even louder than days preceding. <br /> <br />Bouquets of carnations, <br />Deep reds, pinks, whites; <br />Petal by petal aligned, <br />To patiently queued buyers. <br /> <br />The taste of a toast, <br />Of sparkling wine from, <br />Vineyards vast and distant; <br />No harried haste to savor. <br /> <br />Swirling strips, <br />Furls of hemlines, <br />A folk tradition ebbs; <br />The whirligig of paper confetti. <br /> <br />More than twenty blackbirds, <br />Trip lightly through the grass, <br />Seeking out micro food; <br />Only a grackle's beak will tweak. <br /> <br />Beginning May, May day; <br />Of yester years echoes, <br />In procession labour, <br />Silent wreaths adorn their struggle. <br /> <br />2009<br /><br />Gillena Cox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-may-2/
