jeweled perfume

I did not filter the lilac bush. Nor the scent of it’s perfume dancing across the porch. Lately, I am feeling awe stricken by how round the world can be. Spring comes and goes, so does hurt, so does everything. The lilacs bloom and then die, so too the other worldly creatures-myself included. You are different than before and yet still the same. It starts somewhere and ends again in the beginning place. A ripple. A ring. A wreath. A may-crown for the queen of April.

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