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At last, blue skies, an April glory day; the crowding suns of dandelions race to metamorphosis; the first globes sway reluctant breezes, voyagers in place.
Now pears are swellings on the flower stem, tan sepals left; white petals fell from show, scattered on the green goose-grass below. Bumps, stamen-crowned - we thank the bees for them.
Cream apple-blossom takes a stately time; though May will whiten may and June will bloom sweet privet and the elder flower too soon, of all in garden apple is the prime.
And blackbird sings, just-so, of everything: bright summer from his brighter mind must spring. ;)
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'May' is another name for the hawthorn flower - because it flowers in May prolifically, I presume.
