No matter how I dream of you when the nights are long
and the air is devoid of song and frozen, you never fail
to exceed my expectations. You come with your flowers
and perfumed breath, with the songs of a thousand birds
in tow. And the earth wakes and births miracles. And hope
sings again in the morning skies, and love falls in raindrops
and dances in the light of the sun. I cannot help
but say that I have tasted heaven in your hours.
It is no wonder that the sky itself sometimes weeps at your going,
no wonder that fresh flowers open to offer you their thanks.
My own heart flowers with gratitude, too. My own eyes
weep at your passing. But my tears are more of joy than sorrow,
because you brought me hope, and life, and love.
Farewell, sweet May, until we meet again. Farewell.