May.

May, you thief!
Stealer of dreams . . .
Brash marauder . . .
Snatcher of children's candy . . .

How sunny your disposition.
How swiftly your warm touch does
freeze even heaven.
The flowers, too, you will deceive;
brief will be their beauty.
You decieve me not.

May, you culprit!
Smasher of hearts . . .
Callous scoundrell . . .
Crumbler of fairies' wings.

How beguiling your gentle mask.
How sweetly you dance to spring's music
which fades too quickly.
Foolhardy the ages that have
rejoiced in your coming.
I rejoice not...

And yet, I must,
For June is dancing
at the door.

Dianne Waylett