There is something wondrous about the morning light in May. It does not moan over the horizon with fatigue and wooliness like it does in January. It rises above the edge of the earth like a deer bounding over a fence. It has a bold quality, a saucy freshness, an impertinence like a teenage girl.
It changes me. I can feel its sparking electricity. The energy is transferred to those who walk under it and who let it touch their skin. We are all reborn in the morning light of May. No wonder it can tease young plants out from the earth. No wonder the trees are willing to unveil their blossoms to its light but insistent kisses. It is a gentle but passionate lover and we come alive in its presence.
May mornings with their still crisp air feel unsteady as though the light has awoken them too soon. They should be resting still under the covers of darkness but the morning sun has thrown open the shade and the world blinks awake with a start. The frost can sometimes be found scurrying back into the understory as the morning light exposes its tenderness.
May is the bride of the year lifting its veil. We gaze at her beauty and radiance. We cannot turn away from her innocent ripeness. We too feel the call to strip away our winter’s clothing and come out from our hiding places. We stretch ourselves long in her rays and warm our faces in her beams. We are dancing in the mottled light passing through tree branches and awaiting the arrival of the fruits of her loving touch.