May Day

They go, the early flags, the gory maples— so too the daffodils & Lenten roses. Other petals swirl & nights warm. Buds thicken and cast shadows: in a thunderstorm I almost forget the ice that was. Narcissi suckle watery paths; meadows heap up emerald masses. How green & I want to delight except this undertow—it pulls so fast passing before I recognize it— like souls in Dante who can’t see the present, white lilacs curdle in pre-summer heat. The parade I barely noticed was beginning is already halfway down the street.