To smell the lilacs in first morning light
Dew descending and shaking free from the tree
Splashing sweet infusions and splattering on me.

Even the fog rising is perfumed.
Fists full, I make my way back inside to find a vase.
A home perfumed by wafts of flowers is a heavenly abode.

It is a beautiful notion, but lilacs don't actually grow here.