Photo by Howie Lisnoff. Looking south into the Berkshire Hills
The Berkshire Hills were close as spring matured onto its heights in warm crystalline blue skies and lime/chartreuse leaf and deeply brown and newly plowed and sown fields coming down through Egremont into Alford and West Stockbridge riding the renewal of the planet with this season.
Mountain Meadow, Spring, Olana, Hudson, NY. Photo by Howie Lisnoff.
May New Again
The days of cold rain
Departed on strong winds west
Left sky crystalline
It was May again
Above the killing fields
The ancient and forgotten weathered country graves.
It will all circle again back
Lovers in meadows green
Near sounding shore
It will be as though none of this has happened.
There will be other skies
New sea and meadow field
And they will think
Children turning cartwheels
The ageless sun
And it will all seem new again.
And star leaden skies
And cricket chorus.
And wildflower rainbow fields.
I wrote this poem on May Day while traveling south on routes 7 and 63 in the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut.
A Poem for May
The fog and rain and clouds swept in across the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut
They trailed along the peaks… in ghostlike swirls
And tucked themselves away in spirit mists
On mountain faces and above marshlands.
It was May… trees late in red/budding
Though meadow grass/green emerald.
It is on a day like this
Perhaps like first day of new Earth
That everything is close and nothing
Was ever lost to time, or ever will be
And everything is possible.