Monday, January 30, 2017

SIX SCENTS WORTH

In the attic of my mind,  memories
are like dust motes riding sunbeams,
set in motion by scents linked to
sometimes seemingly insignificant
moments in life’s journey. 

The subtle scent of lilac takes
me back to the yard gate of my
childhood home, where the
lilac bloomed profusely every
Spring, its sweet fragrance a witness
to my learning to roller skate, and
later to my first kiss.

The delicate scent of new-mown hay,
its sweet smell released by the kiss
 of  prairie sun, conjures memories
of pedaling down country roads
where pheasants nested in the fencerows
and red-winged blackbirds perched  on
fence posts singing their joy to the world.

The pungent scent of coffee brewing
is reminiscent of the battered percolator on
 my grandmother’s big cook stove
that sent a wake-up call to all and sundry to
gather at the big round table for country ham,
biscuits and gravy, and a huge platter of
sunny side-up eggs glistening with ham drippings.

The glorious smell of a coming rain
kissing the air with its fragrance before
it makes its way across fields of grain
takes me to mother’s garden, where first drops raise
puffs of dust before they soak into the rich
black soil, nurturing the fruits of mother’s
labor that sustain us through the winter.

The smell of sunshine and sweat is linked
to memories of my father returning from
work in the field, responding to my cry of
“Lift me, Daddy”, swinging me high in
his strong arms, instilling in me a sense of
being loved and special,
the greatest gift of all.

The smell of wood burning carries
me to a cozy room with fireplace in the great
Smoky Mountains, where I hear again
the voices and laughter of
dear friends now gone and
awaiting me in the great what comes after.

Scents are the gossamer golden strands
of our lives that enfold  moments
and people we hold dear, so that we
might savor them time and time again.
***********

I belong to a small group of women writers.  Each month we choose a topic about which we write a brief essay or poem, and read what we have written.  For February, the chosen topic was "Scents" and "Six Scents Worth" is the result. 
Submitted for dVerse Open Link,  February, 2017

15 comments:

  1. A lovely write, and so true, scent is often the carrier of long lost memories....I have often experienced that. They sometimes come as such a surprise!!

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  2. This is lovely ... wonderful evocative images beautifully rendered ... a pleasure to read. (You had me at the scent of lilacs ... sigh). Superb close on this piece - and that title is inspired. My kind of poetry.

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  3. I love this.. how each scent carry a memory.. and how weave our identity from those scents.. the bouquet you have chosen is like a great organ.

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  4. This is absolutely beautiful! From the title of the poem to that final perfect stanza I was enthralled by the memories these scents brought back. One of my favorite scents that brings back memories of my childhood is eucalyptus.

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  5. Such a marvelous scent-ual poem. It is true how often scents bring back memories, both good and bad.

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  6. Scent is the most powerful memory jerker of all the senses apparently. I think you just proved it.

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  7. scent is so evocative...but the sense of being loved...permeates through your poem. Fragrant memories.

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  8. The glorious smell of a coming rain
    kissing the air with its fragrance before
    it makes its way across fields of grain

    Beautiful!!

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  9. Love the scents of your childhood and family memories ~ I can definitely relate to them ~

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  10. I remember the scent of wood stoves starting up in autumn across a small town I used to live in.

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  11. Wonderful journey through scent memory

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  12. This reminds me of my impression of you, so down home and comfy...beautiful my friend.

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  13. Yes, scents are so evocative. In that way, I think smell is the most powerful memory trigger of all the senses.

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  14. I love this. Scents can be our own personal history book, reminding us of significant memories. I loved the bit about the red winged blackbirds, and the memory of being saying in the air by your father.

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  15. I can close my eyes and imagine it all. So much memory is connected to scent. This is just lovely. 💜

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