|Sweet Vernal Grass at Wikipedia|
Was it sweet grass I smelled today
the car-whipped air floating across me
as I sped up and out over the mountains?
That smell, so seductive that all you
want to do is inhale into forever
never letting it go
afraid it’ll be gone come the next breath
wondering if you every really smelled
it at all
Does sweet really have a smell
all its own?
I think I detect a hint of cinnamon
but no – it’s more burnt sugar
(I guess sweet does have a smell)
but the whisper of cinnamon
persists – more a memory, a footprint,
than present sense impression
there is, of course, the smell
of green overlaying it all
fresh . . . clean . . . definitely green
the smell of memories
and safe haven
and bare feet
what running smells like
when you’re small . . .
or old . . .
somehow in the middle years
that particular smell is lost
yielding to the busyness of the
business of life
I smelled the cut grass today
and it was very so so sweet