I was hit with inspiration

while staring at the lilac buds.

I only paused a moment

in all my busy

to lean on the garden gate

and drink in the present

and really see.

 

Buds are promises.

 

We wait for a sign

sometimes for forever.

Then suddenly

they are there

if we pause long enough

to see.
They become slowly,

but steadily.

Something imagined,

recalled,

hoped for

becoming something

I can touch,

smell, see

right in front of me.

And I know if I watch

slow enough

I’ll see the purple blush

deepen

and the tight curls

loosen

and the beauty promised

unfurl

reaching eager fingertips

to sun,

and rain,

eagerly drinking in

spring,

and faithfully pouring out,

unashamedly,

for all to see.