let the moon be bright and clear in my poem about the lilacs
though I know so many have written, have sung about them before
still they have not written my lilacs into their poems
how could they
so I feel justified in making this small garden shine
and letting it be evening in the poem and it has rained
and of course the perfume of the lilacs is stronger now
and the wind knows it and the wind comes through my
poem's screen door and laughs and scatters all the papers on the
floor
and opens all the books to the former poems about lilacs
written across the ages
and we are like, that suddenly
a shop with jeweled clocks and timepieces
all set to the same mystical railroad hour
the self same loveliness ticking away and suddenly hushed
no longer young or old
just caught out in a lilac moment
and this poem I present to you
is a bouquet of them, at evening tied with ribbons of silver
in the aforementioned moonlight
and the purple clouds of the scent of the flowers
has made you happy
thinking about this:
in heaven the lilacs are infinite
we will be too
mary angela douglas 16 june 2021;2 november 2021
variant poem:
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