Towards the end of May

It caught my eye one day towards the end of May,

obscured but partly so by wayside flowers wild,

and I paused to feel and enjoy reflected memories

glinting, gleaming, glistening, in the field of hope.

Confused it seemed familiar as if I’d spied before

a diamond in the broken bits of a tall wine glass

snapped from the stem by time’s acquired disdain

and discarded on the run from emotive states.

Perhaps an uncut crystal, a clean and fresh dewdrop,

and  wary I walked forward from where I was before

to get a closer look.

But diamonds are too precious to be thrown away,

crystals too far buried beneath the surface of a life,

and dewdrops glisten only for too short a time

to warrant the delay on my walk that day in May.

And yet I paused, and yet I moved,

until the clouds brought in the rain

to hasten my withdrawal

from the onset of insight.

Sometimes peaceful I go back to see if it’s still there,

sometimes I have to wonder why I stopped to stare,

but most times my tears distort so grand a view

to leave me looking down at the same familiar ground.

Diamonds, crystals, dewdrops,

and I’m a silly fool

for believing, knowing, sensing,

they’re a part of you and me!

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