...est in Arcadia ego...

This early morning air, pellucid, refreshing, soft
A time of hush, just before that cacophony
Of life that marks sweet May's awakening - the lifter
Of moods, the harbinger of hope, the visionary self. 
Filled with all the mild majesty of an English breeze
Stirring the leafy canopy as the sun begins to 
Follow the wobbling shadows of dappled zephyrs
So now serenity herself stirs to awaken this echo
Of tranquillity, hinting to me of that sense of 'quiddity',
That borderless 'whatness' of every animate thing,
Which fleetingly draws me once again to the marvel
Of existence: butterflies, green leaves, bird-song
Entwined as thrushes build as they sing.of an enduring 
Stewardship of all the passing glories of this one May day.