morning

sweating, drowsy,
heavy heads,
of the Lilacs,
drooping over,
shot by rain drops,
and dew from their beds.

morning glistens,
up off the stones,
splashed from lime the dusty roads own,
smells of the night flowers,
rose lilacs and laurels
blend with freshly cut meadows
the blackbird takes flight.

Caithleen Carter Steeves