The vital life-force bursting from the earth;
surging upwards into plants and beasts
and deep into the loins and breasts
of every man and woman -
unchained, at last, from the emasculating,
iron-binding grip of Winter.
Even the ill-omened blackthorn,
keeper of dark secrets,
has withdrawn her pins of slumber
to become the harbinger of Spring.
In celebration with her sister, May,
she bursts forth with the frothing, fervent,
effervescent foam of life.
the Green Man gazes down,
grizzled, gleeful, grinning,
with lascivious leer and lecherous laugh,
overseer of the ancient rites
of celebration, intoxication, copulation.
From voyeuristic vantage he surveyed
the happenings of ages long before
we became estranged from nature’s ways,
enacted always at this time
underneath the blanket
of oak and ash and thorn.
And he knows that the sap of life
still rises unconstrained and is, as ever,
celebrated on this day.