For days, I have been watching the lilac’s buds grow plump,
their pale purple trumpets lengthening, the tips of them
swelling until, one here, one there, they burst into white stars
that pour forth a scent brewed, you would swear, by angels.
Today it wafts through my open windows, perfuming the rooms,
and I, enveloped in the fragrance, breathe, and believe
that surely I am tasting the essence of heaven.