By the garden latch the lilac has opened a morning class for its clusters. Each bud greets the bee, waits for the gate to nod, and only then opens exactly one panicle.
We asked at the kiosk. A woman buying stamps said she had come for envelopes and stayed because the smallest bud would not unfurl until the bee had finished looking. A neighbor had it that the shrub was dressing for a wedding; by noon it was only class, purple and still, practicing one cluster at a time.
The park keeper pinned a note to the latch: please wait for the nod. The next morning the same bud came early, nodded twice to the gate, and a sparrow sat through the lesson, leaving a crumb on the root as if tuition had been paid.