By Catherine Lawton —
Not as many May first flowers here
as in places where I lived as a child.
There, roses burst, clambered, and climbed already,
enough garden posies to revel in—make chains
for garlands and necklaces, plenty to fill
baskets to take and surprise the neighbors.
Now I could fill baskets with a few dandelions,
chokecherry and crab apple blossoms.
Or I can let my cup overflow with gracious responses,
pick loving words to give as lavish surprises.