May

The only way to believe is to divorce your grit from your wellspring.  Yes, under the stairwell, you are ankle deep in doubt, but it does not take much to step up into hope,  Listen to May.  The way the lilies preach, trinket white bells ringing.  Listen to the way the tulips pray, mouths open to their song.  Bury your barnacle fear,  that which has partnered you to your smaller self.  Listen to May.  The color embroidery of May.  Yes, the lazy winter you has been sitting in a cozy uncle chair napping.  Wake yourself up. Ordain this moment.  Bless the next next. There is no need to be ginger.  No need to douse yourself with some false perfume.  Smell the May.  Listen to May.  Marry yourself to May.