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Cover artwork by author 

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Framed by Fragrant Lilac Trees

At the yellow house on the corner, I stop,
Lean in to inhale the sweet purple of lilac bushes.
A young girl bursts through the wooden door
“Don’t you take any of my grandmother’s lilacs!”
So strong her ire I am left speechless –
Defenseless – against those accusations.
How could I tell her I wanted only to
Steal the scent carried in each tiny flower,
Listen to the buzzing of bees,
Hum with them,
Be filled by the intoxication of spring
And leave her, the guardian, the rights to the flowers.

Weeds

The weeds, like yellowing rabbit ears,
Popped up along the side of the road;
Hundreds, maybe thousands,
Of bunnies in hiding,
Edging parade-like along the sides.
Rounded ears showing above the late fall grasses,
Nestled in green, noses wiggling,
Twitching their golden ears as they quietly contemplate
Life, the blue sky, the cars rushing by.
I imagine myself squeezing in amongst them,
Face to the sky, drawing in the last blast of sun.
How much better it would be
If my road was lined with sweet tiny rabbits,
Asking me to join them in sipping the morning dew.

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Mary Capobianco © 2024