The full, heavy, heads of lilac weigh down the branches,
bending under rain, lifting in sunlight. I love the scent of the flowers, and this poem is a rondeau …
LILAC
where lilac leans its purple weight, 
honey-seeking bees congregate,
lured by the colour and the scent,
where desired sweetness is present
among stems darkly foliate.
lovers too reach to contemplate
the turn to summer’s delicate
and fragrant floral ravishment
where lilac leans.
they watch the flowers radiate
this richly scented advocate
as end to winter’s discontent,
leading to a presentiment
that life and love will still create
where lilac leans.
first published in Mused online
A Summer Father … poems as deceptively simple and cunning as a sniper’s bullet. This book is a Remembrance Day poppy. Dave Margoshes
