Im Wunderschonen Monat Mai
There is a cold breeze even in the sun.
Under the trees, in shade, we shiver, zip
our leather jackets. Fresh green branches whip
And scatter their last blossom. Winter’s done
Late spring is almost over. And the air
is May with flower scent. Birds call lust high
and strident. No clouds in a clear blue sky
that was all grey – it tempts us from despair.
Reminds us that the seasons twist and turn.
And governments will fall and fall as far
as they are high and mighty now. They are
never as strong as us. Joy will return
and justice. Small birds teach us how to sing
all of the hope and green and love of Spring.