High Spring

May blossoms in the hedgerow.
Where  tractors have not slain  
the hedges, heavy with  scents  
of high spring, bird songs excite  
 as bees ply  trade  old as Adam  
gathering harvests for the winter    
See infant fruits swelling.Enjoy the sun  
for you,everyone none other.  
Before my window flies and butterflies  
dance their ballet, Gold finches    
call each hour fledglings swing in  conifers  
only two weeks before they fly  
joining the chorus, Earth's great orchestra  
which we join or simply listen  
it matters not.  
   
Time says it is twelve and I believe    
fingers dictate,let the moments pass  
do not restrain, time must pass  
.Time stood still fades  
fecund dandelion clocks   spreading  seeds  
 leaves submerge beneath the grass  
giving others space,roots deep within the soil  
from which we rise and have since memory .  
That everlasting memory from which we glean.