UFOs in May

May in Maine and either snow, mist,
or dandelion wisps hover above the lake,

shadow-follow a breeze chilly enough to pretend
March, phantom ice crackling below or maybe just

a loon rising, rising. But this is May in Maine,
and it could be swarms of no-see-‘ems gathering

for group think, hanging about a phantom Lakeshore Bar
relocated thirty feet above ripples not going anywhere

in this mid-season pause between hike and hunker down.
And this is May in Maine and it could be winter or summer,

the suddenly present sun tricking you once again
to head out into her best pretend weather of Welcome

to Beauty, to air you can hear with your whole body,
shores that recede into rugged, a month of black flies

beginning to migrate to your neck and ankles,
but not there yet; weeks of whether to keep wearing

the long sleeves and flannel or lounge in bright rays
with nothing but a foolish tourist T-shirt and Deep Woods

spray to save you. And it is May in Maine and you are so
deliriously content that you wave both hello and goodbye

to the snow, mist, or dandelion wisps out all morning
migrating above the lake as you walk out now to the deck

to greet them, welcome them no matter what
or in what form they are. As do they for you.

*

English Professor at Commonwealth University, Marjorie Maddox has published 14 collections of poetry (most recently Begin with a Question [paracletepress.com] and the ekphrastic collections Heart Speaks, Is Spoken For [shantiarts.co] and In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind + the prose collection What She Was Saying [amazon.com]; children’s books; an anthology on PA. www.marjoriemaddox.com [marjoriemaddox.com]