Wednesday, May 22, 2013

May I?


May 1st I sat down to write . . . and the date stared back like that child's question, "Mother, May I?" 

So, May . . . 

May I ride my bike in the park on my way to meet up with friends for a satisfying talk-session?
Yes, you may.

May I stop to take pictures of flowers and sunlight and fall into conversation with friendly strangers who want to come up and see what I'm seeing and together we rejoice a little over the unprocessed, unlegislated, unowned delights of May?
Yes, you may.

May I eat flowers in my salad, mixed in with greens that grew all winter right outside my kitchen window?
Yes, you may.


May I wear my favorite polka-dot sweater with a handmade corsage from flowers my daughter gathered from the rock wall?
Yes, you may. 

("And by the way," she says, 
"the lambs-ear is soft and gentle like your love.  
And the others, too, they're all symbolic.")

Does that mean . . . May I for a day preen that in someone's eyes I am interestingly geometric like gopherspurge and spicy-sweet like cranesbill?
Well . . . if you must.

May I at least spend a whole day from sun-up to sundown weeding the flowery banks?
Yes, that you may.



May I trade windshields and screens of all kinds for my bike's handlebar map, winding roads and wild iris in bloom?
Yes, you may . . . 



. . . as long as you teach your sons not to pick any more of the iris and leave some for the rest of May's minions to enjoy.

May I? May I?

I don't have to wait for the answer, do I?  Because in May, isn't the answer always good? And all through the woods and fields and even in small backyards, birds and bugs are chirrupping and carolling and even the wind picks up the scent of flowers that speak in all their vari-colored tongues the same happy song of Maytime praise, "Yes, oh yes, OH YES! You! MAY!"


(Except not when you dip down into the 40s
and make me begin to dread the 90 miles biking to the coast.)


May I have your word that you'll come back to what you, lovely May, do best
and that you'll leave the rain and cold to lesser months?  

(Like February? 
Or November?)
May I, May?


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