May Day, M'aide. edit 0.01 ella,todd, erthona

[Todd]

Tom,

I was reading this a lot yesterday, and was trying to decide if I had anything of value to add. I'm not sure if I do, but I'll try.

This poem seemed to speak of emotional loss and sadness reflected in the speaker's observations of nature. Here are some line comments.

The sun has lost; the gloss of day--I love the sonics in this line specifically how lost and gloss play off of each other. I also find this line pleasing because of the idea that day is like a cosmetic enhancement that the sun wears. That in some ways we can have a barren light that doesn't possess what we associate with day.
has weathered into grieving gloom.--Weathered is a very interesting word. Its like the sun has suffered erosion. This would suggest that this gloss was worn away over time slowly until one day it was gone. This is the idea of the speaker or observer coming to a moment of realization or epiphany. While I don't mind grieving gloom, and it probably doesn't require a change, grieving is a bit leading and it might work better with more subtlety--even if you lose the alliteration.  
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;--I love the idea of ravens sculling the air. That is visual, beautiful language. Given that a raven might have an association with death or loss, it and other imagery like it might make the "grieving" word choice above unnecessary.
a raucous ride on swell of storm.--raucous would imply thunder to me, or I guess the noise of wind. I can accept this here though its bordering on being introduced a bit early.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade,--Too many G's in succession here. I think great should be replaced with a substitute. Glass-grey is lovely. There's some part of me that would like to see glass used for more than just a color modifier. It just has a striking quality to it that might have more room to be developed.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs.--These two lines are interesting as if someone is pulling out the seams of the clouds so that they can release their payloads.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst--Love the image here, you develop it well.
to stain the thin horizon's line.--This is also pleasing diction

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;--The interesting part of these first few lines of S2 for me is the idea of barrenness.   Rain is usually thought of as something that leads to abundance, but as the speaker moves from sky to earth we have almost an animistic view of a capricious god or capricious fate. Instead of rain there is hail. Rape fields flailed can't help but give us a sense of violence and futility.
familiar though the sight may be,--I like this thought of general resignation to the cycles of life we expect. 
this May Day makes a lasting memory.--This line though is a bit of a let down as a conclusion. It's already in the title and it feels a bit too pat. I think you have a lot of great build up, and you sell yourself short on your conclusion. This is where I'd consider doing more work.

tectak
May 2015

I don't know how helpful any of that was, Tom. I hope there is something you can take from the comments and use.

Best,

Todd