I smelled the summer
As I walked today
Smelled the summer
In that good old fashion
Olfactory way
Perhaps it is different
Where you are today
But in the hills
Of southern Indiana
Down below where the oak
Leaves rustle in the
breeze
There is a fullness
Of smell in the air
I see the roses
Of Red and Sharon
Who lived next door
I see the purple of some
Unnamed flower
Unnamed by me, at least
I cannot call their names
But I know that they
Are quite profligate
About their smells
Putting them out for anyone
Who passes by
No wonder the bees and
bugs
Are so enthralled in
summer
So eager to fly from
flower to flower,
Like me they smell the
summer
And know that it is good
Even though they, like me,
Have no names to use
To confine the smells
To earth
JRMcF
This may be my worst “poem”
ever, but remember, I don’t claim to be a poet. It’s important to me just to
let the words flow and let them stand as they are. It’s terrible for you to
have to read what comes out that way, though, and I apologize. However, even if
the poetry is bad, and even if you aren’t supposed to start a sentence with
“however,” it’s nice to sniff those summer smells, isn’t it?
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