I've hidden from the long slog of winter under me woolly thermal vest with the dribble, but now I made it, I can cast it off, and throw my diminished frame towards the luxurious promises of summer breezes blowing up me cotton frock.
If I made it this far, surely the rest is going to be alright. Come the long evenings, long shadows, I can be bolstered up by warmth and sun and wind, made stout and whole enough to face winter returning, when I dig out the thermal vest I said I'd never wear again, the thing I'll sew myself into till April 30th, but I'll know too, if I bite my knuckles and keep my head down, I will feel the same all over again next year. If I can make May Day I can call it triumph.
So it's all sparkly today, and I don't care what adversity comes this way. The marker's down, the line's drawn, I jumped the barrier, and the bit of me that's living is still alive enough to anticipate the freedoms of summer.
Even if, at any point I felt down, sad, and grieving today, which I deny totally, I'm drawing on the bright and shiny art the children conjure up, inspired by light and paint: what could be better for me than to clap eyes on Squirrel's rocks, Tiger's thingummy, and Shark's killer whale?
.
And if that wasn't enough to know it's all time for a spring celebration, the evening sings at me from the Folk Show with Mark Radcliffe on Radio 2.
Honestly, aged in my 20s and 30s, I thought, If you ever catch me listening to Radio 2, shoot me. But I hadn't been withered by death, despair and winter then, when making it through the shrunken ages to the first of May simply wasn't the achievement it so clearly is today.
2 comments:
May Day (no, not that one) clearly has special significance. I think it's when we become goddesses of the earth again and can celebrate all that is feminine. Frilly frocks are a must, as are bare limbs. I think we should all get on horses and ride off into the sunset.
yes! frilly frocks and fairy flower garlands! want want want!
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