May

By David Roth

©11^th May, 2011

Mornings

that tease with a hint that Old Man Winter

has decided to delay

his annual trek to

the southern hemisphere.

Mid-days

rolling towers of windswept

green-gray slate cottons balls

crying for attention,

tantrums of wind, rain and thunder

screaming to be heard.

Twilight

tucking the last rebellious vestige

of spring’s temperamental child

to bed for a nap.

Midnight

beneath a shimmering belt

of otherworldly summer diamonds

scattered in a puddle of milk

buckled in Orion’s Belt.

Spoiled and cranky transition

from winter’s ice

to summer’s sweat

wrapped in gay, chuckling ribbon.