If May gives us nothing beyond this one perfect day,
it will have been more than enough. From its clear dawning
until the sun set in a flotilla of golden clouds, each moment
came drenched in beauty. Dew sparkled the morning’s lawns;
tulips opened, and violets. Robins and finches and doves
caroled in the branches of trees that were alive with buds and leaves in a thousand shades of red and green.
And above them, whipped cream clouds danced with the sun,
painting the land with kaleidoscopic hues, now bright, now dark,
now showering the earth with luminous pearls
until you reeled in wonder that such heavenly beauty
could continue hour after sparkling hour. And when the sun
had set, the azure dome, clear now and turning indigo,
lifted its moon and planets and stars in a magnificent silent finale,
leaving you in awe, that you could be, here, now,
alive in the midst of all this splendor.