May

May

A blast of golden light woke me today,
Early sunshine seems especially rich
Peeking below clouds on the horizon.
"Blue as blue can be" painted morning sky.

Unfolding leaves are still not summer green
Although more chlorophyll is daily made.
Maples most advanced nearly summer green;
Oaks pastel, pasty yellow green catkins.

Huge oaks pump out volumes of pollen drift
Covering cars in a pee green powder.
Oaks catch up, their girth, their height, not by chance.
Acorns attract squirrels, life's ardent champs.

Life lives not for color, but color lives
In each facet of live's crowning glory.
Color's intensity is proportionate
To day's ambient light's narrow shadows.

Green, though, becomes the the drape of day,
More and more pleasing, a meaningful way.
Up from plant roots chlorophyll seeks heaven
By bark straws as sap wicks green life's given.

A painter fills canvas after canvas
In a lifetime mixing pigment colors;
Nature fills the whole World's composition
In each pigment hue imaginable.

Who, pray tell, should we call Master Artist,
One with bottled pigments, one a grand scheme?
For inside, wall art's hung of good artists;
Outside, all pigments blend into colors.

May is the greatest monopolizer.
She draws heat from the Sun gaining sky heights,
She draws moisture from gathering storm clouds,
She delivers reality, hugs dreamers.

Ronald C. Downie