Day 30 #NaPoWriMo2012 The Eve of May Day

§ April 30th, 2012 § Filed under dance, deadlines, fae and elvish, National Poetry Month, poems & lyrics, the creative process § 1 Comment

It doesn’t seem possible that the end of National Poetry Month is here already. It began with a poem about the Eve of April so it seems right to end on a similar note. From Maureen at NaPoWriMo.net:

Today’s prompt asks you to write a poem incorporating at least three “I remember” statements. This invocation of memory seems a fitting way to end our month together.

40.

The eve of May Day
I remember the flowers, the singing
the warmth of the full sun at the horizon
after the coldness of the dark before
I remember how we stamped our feet
and tucked our mittens under our arms
while cold fingers adjusted the garlands.
I remember how the night before May Day
brought dreams of spring rushing to me
waking me up again and again
and leaving me breathless.

41.

In truth the sun brought spring
a month and days ago
that vernal date too soon
to be more than a promissory note
that winter would end someday
and summer would come too
but not before messing with us
a few weeks more
not until we relax into it
instead of needing it.

42.

I remember a long roll of years of course
but not as you’d recall them one by one
with stops to see the sparks flying upward
from this one summer’s bonfire
or the still woods of that November winter
and the first snow there.
I remember most that recognition
oh, yes, that’s how the bright sparks fly
twisting and disappearing into the night
joining the stars in the black sky.
I remember the frost thickly etched
on the window to tell of cold’s visit
and the frozen grass which kept our footprints
while the sun tried to wash them away.
I remember when she vanished for that long night
how we stood watch to call her back
and heard the first flakes fly past
and sizzle on the ground.
Having kept that watch for more times
than I care to tally up with you
the sparks aren’t this year’s or last’s,
the crunch of the grass wasn’t that one year,
that snow, not one sound but a chord of many.

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