These are the days, finite,
Long joyous evenings, I feel no pain,
Chestnut and whitethorn in reckless display,
Birdsong flinging notes into the sky,
I know it's transient.

A breeze scars the lake, heat of the sun,
The sky tossing clouds, rain on my face.
The scent of mothers old rose bushes,
The world spins to make the night,
But for now this is enough.

Another May is building towards the solstice,
Another chance to be, I whistle a tune of praise
In gratitude for everybody and everything,
For all of this, allowing the senses to feed into
The unlimited joy of awareness.

Ger Reidy has published three collections of poetry. His most recent, Before Rain, was shortlisted for the Pigott Poetry Prize at Listowel Writers Week. His debut collection of short stories, Jobs for a Wet Day, was nominated for the Edge Hill Prize