It is May and the bees snuggle
Into the meadowsweet
And slumber in its earthy perfume.
I plait the tender twigs into garlands
And give them to my friends.
We embrace the sun with open arms
And the grass is cool against our feet.

It is a lifetime later,
Again May and open windows.
I have woven a garland,
Woven my children into a crown,
And they circle my brow
And whisper “Our queen, our mother.”

May 22nd, 2010