Or maybe not. NaPo/GloPoWriMo is over and already I miss the opportunity to share poetry with my small circle of fellow poets. But as this was May 1, I had opportunity to engage in the poetry of dance as I and fellow traditional dance enthusiasts (aka Morris dancers) danced up the sun in a local park, watching dawn break over the mountain. It’s an age old tradition begun in England and I would guess there are cultures everywhere that have kept watch as the sun marked a time when the days would grow warmer and crops would burgeon. You can find out more about morris dancing here.
Some pictures from my morning:
I guess this sort of a panoply post. An assortment of things. Pictures as above, poetry, and a normal sort of photo to share on Hat Attack. There’s creativity and passion in all sorts of activities. Some perhaps not so ordinary.
When Mayday comes to my town
the lilacs are near to bloom
the grass has glistening tendencies
dew spangles and sings on the blades.
When the dawn comes to my sky
the clouds may part briefly,
the sun reflects some atmospheric dust
red flares, fleeting, spread into a blushing aura.
When people come to the heights
they may sit on the grass
or huddle in bright masses stomping the cold
wishing it away with ribbons and bells.
Singing the sun awake
Dancing the dawn of summer.
‘Til next time,