March and April are just numbered squares
on a calendar,
And I have seen forsythia
Hiss and smolder beneath sodden snow.
Yet the lavender delays.
Assume not too much--
The crocus does not baffle frost,
And beneath its fur, the willow shivers.
Yet the fragrance is stayed.
Dare not assume the date--
The swallow cluster on frigid steel wires
Is bluster.
And sunflowers and buttercups
Sycophants of the sunny South only.
Yet the purple pendants pause.
Then one warm day
Again the patent is again unleashed upon the breeze
And calls the gardener to his furrow.
Unassuming, the lilac blooms.
Breathe in the lilac. Let its delicate fragrance mark your memory, etch spring upon it. Pick a bouquet for someone special. Pluck a sprig of spring for yourself. Take heed: they’ll not bloom again for another long year.
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My bouquet is so wonderfully fragrant!
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