May Opens Wide 

Marge Piercy 

The rain that came down last night

in sheets of shaken foil while thunder

trundled over the Bay and crooked

spears of lightning splintered trees

is rising now up stalks, lengthening

leaves that wave their new bright

banners tender as petals, seventeen

shades of green pushing into sun.

The soil feels sweet in my hands

as I push little marigolds in.

Bumblebees stir in the sour cherry

blossoms floating like pieces of moon

down to the red tulips beneath

the smooth barked tree where a red

squirrel chatters at my rescued tabby

who eyes him like a plate of lunch.