a neighbor's chimney smoke
drifts through a stand of jack pine
delivering small billows of fascination
onto my porch
the wide smile warmth of her kitchen
in every inhalation
and almond paste and cinnamon
a busy country oven
seepings of an open paint box and turpentine
sidle in as faint undertone
a unique blend of her, hearth, and home
nothing in the world smells quite like this
my nose becomes a projector
for all associated images
I fall back onto dog musty wicker
and watch
sniffing
her private charms
like a peeping tom
Comments
Hi JC
I don't have to ask...I think I know , though I am definately not an aussie ( but am tempted at times to become one, If that is even possible!). I did not intend any double entendre, sometimes they happen, without conciously being aware of it. I hope, not too offensive.
thanks for your thoughts, and sorry for the (typical) lateness of my reply.
with respect and regard,