“There are twelve months in all the year,
As I hear many men say;
But the merriest month in all the year
It is the month of May.”
from – “Robin and the Three Squires”
(traditional English folk-song)
The fifth is the month of true waking,
the month when the blessing of leaf
is laid on the woodland trees, breaking
the frost and the long winter’s fief.
I’ll make you a gift of this morning,
the warmth of the summer’s advance,
a ring of wildflowers for adorning
your hair in the brash morris-dance!
The bouffons of spring are a-caper
– I'll give you their mad galliard –
they dance for the love of the Shaper
of all things, the God many-starred!
Sweet woman, the moments are rushing,
and May is a brief picayune;
from hillsides the streamlets are gushing –
a rash helter-skelter to June.
I’ll give you this moment to treasure,
I’ll capture this spark of bright May,
I’ll lay it before you to pleasure
your heart, when the clouds blight the day.
I’ll grant you the comic satori
enlightening laughter can give –
the instant when life is a story,
a joke, with a punch-line to live.
Sweet woman, whatever I proffer
will pale before your gifts to me;
so make what you will of my offer –
to free spirits all things are free.
Gold trophy winner
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