Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
Poetry of the People
The verbena comes back,
As the wind makes its way
Down the same dirt track,
In the same sort of day.
The fleabane claims the field
As the rain makes spring feet
In the garden newly tilled
Before the summer’s heat. Continue reading “The First of May”
The cruelty of April which lingers
In a late deadening frost, in the fragile
Breaking of stem, the flood that uproots,
Is finally no match for that herald
Of warm wildflower season—May.
May says to you, Wind this bright ribbon
Around the pole, hang this flower basket
From your neighbor’s doorknob, toast
Your mother’s life and remember the dead,
Celebrate cinco-style all birth and burial. Continue reading “Listen to May”
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. Continue reading “May Day: Knock and Run!”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 