May is the end of spring
Of spring of spring.
The birds chirp
And rabbits hop
One last time
Before summer arrives
Arrives with heat and sweat and death.

May is not like that
It is a cool breeze
On a tired face
A vision of dripping nectar
For a blind soul's eyes
The scent of warm honey
And fresh bloomed tulips.

May is the keeper of all things good
The mother of an innocent newborn
A doe with a trembling fawn
Watching over something precious
She knows will run away
But she must keep hold of it now
Teach it to grow and grow.

May is the time to sit
To listen and to watch
The birds chirp and rabbits hop
One last time
Before the sherbet clouds descend
On the rolling hills of spring.