A Poem Speaks of Blooms

It was a long wait this year

for the balloons of creamy blooms

to reach their height of fragrance

and light.

We thought that Japanese tree lilac

had forgotten to favour us

with the grace of blossoming.

 

But then they were there!

For two days--for three, even--

those ivory blobs

were the glory of the neighbourhood,

their sweet aroma rivaling their beauty.

 

And then the shedding began.

Blizzards of tiny petals

drifted with every puff of wind,

piling snow onto our plates, our food, our hair.

It was the messiest,

the most heavenly

heaven.

 

 

Copyright © 2022 Ann Tudor
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