The Beltane fires have burned, the veil has thinned–
Unconsciously we sense the other side,
And vernal frenzy throws good sense to wind,
As if by work, mortality’s denied.
Inspired by trees’ and shrubs’ floral display,
We start ambitious habits once again
And set ourselves new goals, as if to say,
“I should do this, and if not now, then when?”
Alas, I have been caught in Springtime’s snare;
It seems the season and fate have contrived
To energize me with delicious air,
Only to leave me hot and sleep-deprived.
There’s no rest for the wicked, so they say-
We wouldn’t have it any other way.