May on the Front Step 
 
For a millisecond
April hesitated on the front step of May
and then charged ahead
making such a breeze
that everything dead quavered
 
Twigs and branches rocked in cul-de-sac gutters
pine needles and cones rolled towards lawn edges
detached feathers stood on end and twirled
and leaves danced in devils down roads
twisting clockwise
 
And in that self-same split second
May opened the door too quickly
so that dashing April
was dashed alright
 
And like a daffodil, May rose from the debris
on her yellow, narcissistic lips-- a plea.
May 1?  May I?
Charmed, I'm sure-- 
irresistible face
Enter, then
and welcome.