My own poems come to me quite rarely but tonight I was in luck (though without a pen so I wrote it, bizarrely, on my phone on the tube home). Although I love all the seasons, and particularly the transitional stages between them, this is one of my very favourite times of year. So this little poem reflects that and the image that I took to accompany it. It doesn't feel quite finished/right at the moment (I might add another verse later to the end and to somewhere in the middle) but I thought I'd post it anyway as a little Mayday Elephant-Brained moment...
Monday 13th May.
It's approaching after hours,
And so I move to sit and wait
To have a conversation with the white bird
Hid amongst the pillars and lost chairs.
From up here May sings
Flirtatious, greenish melodies--
As chlorophyll and pigment flaunt and hum
Coquettish with the metropolitan.
I gaze, unseeing
As slight and spiteful breeze
Stirred up and over steps
Glances at me.
The white bird, gladly unperturbed,
Hops, eyes, turns to me and cries again
"May is the time"
He waits, then flies.
Perhaps it is.
But so often, as he drifts away
Becoming blossom dancing far below
The pirouettes of transient confetti
Still spin up into glimmerlets of hope...
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