May Day
May first heralds an amorous month.
Between the start of spring.
And summer.
Breezes heat spirits.
Powdery pollen coats streets, paths, clothes.
From flowering maples, cherries, dogwoods.
Bathes all in fecundity.
Rouses old and young alike.
Brings to mind May Day celebrations of yore.
Annual outdoor bazaars.
Lemon sticks, pickles, prizes.
Poles with ribbons.
Dancing, chanting, panting.
To let fly pent up excitement.
Desire to pair.
To touch.
To rub yellow temptation on the skin.
Bewitch.
Though old, I feel it too.
A wish to race away.
Roll in grass.
Instead, I peer beyond my window.
See the budding lavender bells of Empress trees.
In glorious bloom on naked branches.
Little sirens seducing leaves.
To wake up.
Put arms around those florets.
I watch.
Wait to see.
If enticement of flowers pop out heart shaped leaves.
In time lapse video.
But alas, and maybe best,
I’ll have to pause, just rest.
Till Empress in green is dressed.
In May’s blooming fragrance fest.
Sensuous, slow. Kissed. Caressed.
Lynn Benjamin
May 1, 2022