It stood majestic in the spring
splayed across the side
of the old goat barn,
reached over the rusty tin roof,
dripped down the cracked window
a branch twisted inside.
The lone lilac surprised us every season
when we thought it would not survive
a harsh winter
as it donned deep purple regalia
drenched in heaviness
with weighted branches
perfuming our world with the scent of angels,
the fragrance of peace.