Mayday

May, 2015. East Kent and Montrichard, France.

If Mayday was our wedding day

These years and decades gone

In place of June, when cornflowers bloom

And sun’s eye unblinking shone

Then I’d find snowdrops, and crocus bed

In some deep wood, in tall grass spread

To weave a garland for your head
Weave a garland for your head.

If Mayday was our wedding day

When we were young and bold

When flowers fell from your print dress

And marched across the field

You’d kick each sandal from your feet

And all among the celandines sweet

This grassy bank would make our seat

Grassy bank would make our seat.

Yet Mayday is our wedding day

The whole earth tells me so

These cherry trees’ bright candy floss

Falls at our feet like fluttering snow

Soft winds and rain from their grip coax free

Such tender clumps of bloom that we

Are happy wreathed again in confetti
Happy wreathed again in confetti.