It is Maying. What is that?
It means that life gets full of the almost-unbearable expectation of coming into bloom and fruition--not fully opened yet, not capable of carrying the full weight of verdancy, maybe even scared to receive it, but yearning so much for it that the longing can no longer be contained in winter-worn garb. It is Maying. Like the weather, vacillating between coolness and warmth, even mingling the two together in the most tantalizing way.
Oh Spring, the prophet of promises fulfilled and the herald of northern nightless nights, you but arrive and nature goes into a frenzy and riot of color and sound! You speak, and I can hardly bear it!
It means that life gets full of the almost-unbearable expectation of coming into bloom and fruition--not fully opened yet, not capable of carrying the full weight of verdancy, maybe even scared to receive it, but yearning so much for it that the longing can no longer be contained in winter-worn garb. It is Maying. Like the weather, vacillating between coolness and warmth, even mingling the two together in the most tantalizing way.
Oh Spring, the prophet of promises fulfilled and the herald of northern nightless nights, you but arrive and nature goes into a frenzy and riot of color and sound! You speak, and I can hardly bear it!
