When Luke was a child, we occasionally celebrated May Day. We lived in a neighborhood surrounded by old people, and we would make May day baskets, hang them on their doorknobs, knock, and run. Of course, the parent-sanctioned knocking on a door and then running was the favorite part of the whole deal for Luke.
May Day is Flora’s celebration. Flora was the goddess of flowers, of course, the protector of the blooms, the giver of spring life, the lover of the colors of the world in all its natural splendor. May Day baskets are a tradition that are probably just about forgotten. May Day poetry goes well with a few May Day flowers.
Here’s one I wrote for my sister Kelly, who feeds the whole family . . . just because . . . on Sunday mornings.
This May Day
We arrive at your back door,
Not with flowers,
But with empty stomachs,
With the need for coffee,
With the need for conversation,
With the ability to smile at your biscuits
And laugh along with your sausage,
Gobbled down in preparation
For the first day of May,
Which you provide
The best beginning to
In its honor.
Thank you for fueling
Our lives, so we may
Feed the flowers,
Feed the earth,
Live this life well
in order to pass it on.
Hey everyone, get away from the computers and go celebrate May Day. Water a flower, write a poem about them, give someone a May Day basket.
Put a flower on a doorstep and run!
April Fools! (Well, it’s just a month away!)