lilac.

it's a New South Wales rain and it comes down softer than a whisper. invisible thinness pitpattering on the leaf tops. between birds chirps. and just by hearing them I know the birds are blue. or maybe a lilac. like the folds of the raindropped flowers. petals. single soft sheets of summertime but lit and reflected and held up and weighed down the the clear innocence beauty of it all.

and maybe the flower doesn't know it yet, but beauty can be heavy. or it can rest lightly.