May Eve

On May Eve we picked
yellow flowers from
the road meadow where
a narrow stream flooded
over the ground, leaving
stems fat and rubbery.
We reverently placed
the green bunches by
doorsteps of our homes
and farm outhouses.
Making a wish for good
weather, we prayed
for a plentiful harvest
along with abundant
fogger for our cattle.
Lying on the ground
until they withered
we watched lively May
winds scatter the fading
petals across the farm:
Heavy showers pushing
them back into the earth.