Before the lilacs are over and they are only
shrunken stalks at the ends of drooping branches,
I want to write a poem about them and their beauty
brief and star-shining as a young girl’s promise.
Because there is so much made of strength and wealth and power,
because the little things are lost in this world,
I write a poem about lilacs knowing that both
are this day’s only: tomorrow they will lie forgotten.
My favorite poem. I found this in one of those poetry anthologies I bought by mistake. This was the only really valuable find I got from there, and happy for the mistake if only to have found this treasure.