The flowers of May
\nat the center of tables.
\nSun rising from painted cotton,
\nsugar bowls,
\ncream urns.
\nLadies chirping with the
\nvoices of girls,
\nthe knots of viburnum and orange
\nin the yarn of conversation.<\/p>\n
Smell of crusts and yeast,
\nand cinnamon,
\nalways morning,
\nbright with its inner rainbow of youth.
\nOld women playing with the poetry
\nof children,
\nadvancing words and songs
\nbetween themselves,
\namong the neighborhood of chairs,
\nhats, spoons.<\/p>\n
Laughter,
\nlyrical,
\nfree.
\nI\u2019ve heard that sound
\nby seaside places
\nwhere children run
\nand scatter sand like sugar,
\nwith eyes open like violets
\nwith their orbs of light.
\nThe shoulders of the sky
\nthe draperies of the room.<\/p>\n
And the women tell it all,
\nthe tales of their romances,
\nthe coming-homes,
\nthe festivals of happiness
\nin their lives.
\nGraveyards adorned with roses,
\nand the sweet scent of tea,
\nthe laying down of spoons
\nladling the light.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The flowers of May at the center of tables. Sun rising from painted cotton, sugar bowls, cream urns. Ladies chirping with the voices of girls,…<\/p>\n