Merry month of May

When I see them my mind becomes blind.  They are covered in electric green buds.  She walks over the pavement in a long dress, haphazardly carrying a bouquet of every flower.  It drags over the walk leaving tiny sprigs in its wake.  Herbs, flowers and wine.  The procession has begun.  He walks carrying a bent switch.  He strides over the grass in his leather brogues.  He chews on a shoot of grass as he moves.  They move swiftly over the land and bring forth the budding leaves and flowers.  The verdant landscape is owed to the lord and lady.  They are diurnal dwellers, carrying out their magic march in the warm May sun.  This is the penultimate moment of spring.  Spring is soon turning to summer.  They march over the most ragged alleyways.  They find every nook.  No polluted city can hold out against the carriers of the green.  They will find a way.  And as they move,  things bloom.  Seeds take flight and set out on long journeys.  Roots travel.  Flowers grow, bloom and die quickly until the next year and others take their time in the warming sun.  We follow the path of the green man and his cohorts.  Every green thing takes time, always in the clinch with the ever faithful death.  Death is danger with its ever present skullduggery.  But May pays no mind as she glides over the earth.  No treachery will stop her, no threats will keep her still.  May moves beyond boundaries and into the birth of the great and small.