Spring lilacs show slow in April, wet and late.
Daffodils, bluebells, tulips, show sooner.
Cynthia yearns for the lilac in my coat pocket.
The daffodils grace the garden by late March,
their trumpets brazen, swaying every which way.
Spring lilacs show slow in April, wet and late.
In the neighborhood, green grass nibbles the dead.
Rakes come out, hoes get polished, dandelions pop.
Cynthia yearns for the lilac in my coat pocket.
It reminds her of our time in Arnold Arboretum,
lilacs swinging low and high—pink, purple, white.
Spring lilacs show slow in April, wet and late.
After the lilacs, the swan boats in The Commons,
the Mother Goose walk along the Freedom Trail.
Cynthia yearns for the lilac in my coat pocket.
She cries every April, heading for the potato patch,
next to the cellar door, where our lilacs bloomed.
Spring lilacs come slow in April, wet and late.
Cynthia yearns for the lilac in my coat pocket.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 1.
Mike Lewis-Beck writes from Iowa City. He has pieces in American Journal of Poetry, Alexandria Quarterly, Apalachee Review, Aromatica Poetica, Big Windows Review, Birdseed, Black Bough, Black Coffee Review, Blue Collar Review, Columba, Cortland Review, Chariton Review, Eastern Iowa Review, Ekphrastic Review, Frogmore Papers, Guesthouse, Heavy Feather Review, I-70 Review, Inquisitive Eater, MockingHeart Review, Pennine Platform, Pilgrimage, Seminary Ridge Review, Southword, the tiny journal, Turtle Island Review, and Wapsipinicon Almanac, among other venues. He has two books of poetry: Rural Routes and Shorter and Sweeter, both published by Alexandria Quarterly Press.
See all items about Mike Lewis-Beck
