Morning in May, by Rosalind Brackenbury

Morning in May

Grass grows in the night

and early the mockingbirds begin

their fleet courtships over puddles,

upon wires, in the new green

of the Spanish limes.

Their white-striped wings flash

as they flirt and dive.

Wind in the chimes pulls music

from the air, the sky’s cleared

of its vast complications.

In the pause before summer,

the wild sprouting of absolutely

everything: hair, nails, the mango’s

pale rose pennants, tongues of birds

singing daylong.

Words, even, and sudden embraces,

surprising dreams and things I’d never

imagined, in all these years of living,

one more astonished awakening.

– Rosalind Brackenbury

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