But for some irrational reason it isn't,
Just like today is supposed to be
The U.S. workers holiday, but it's not.
Emotion got in the way of that Big Time.
Not so with the fae.
They are always here come Beltane,
Rain or shine, always waiting
For leavings behind, of milk, honey,
Bread, mead, poetry
But no one remembers,
Not even those brave souls
Who train on May poles
And offer felt gnomes to children
At Michaelmas.
Well, if no one will do it,
I must! And this would be enough
In a still asleep world
But there is much that passed between us,
Most of it silent.
Someone has to pick up where
What left off is gone forever
But whirs in your backyard. Ask for
Honeysuckle, passion fruit, guidance,
What's the future way to be?
So much has not been seen
One has finally to become them,
As if we never were.
The holy cool hang
Like hipsters at the same hum.
