The best month,
filling my heart to the brink every year
with roses and expectation.
Days growing brighter
and longer.
Pink ramblers bloom fresh
like small perfect finite hopes.
Barely summer
yet the shining day has almost peaked.
The duck egg sky grows a little paler
each receding night.
We are hurtling towards midsummer glory
without any brakes.
The best time
but time never lasts.