The Winter brings a fresh, clean smell
Like well-iced water in a glass.
But snow’s smell is ephemeral:
So quickly there, too quickly passed.

The birthing month has fresh-dropped dew,
The wholesome smell of moistened shoots,
The shower-induced verdigris
Of sprouts establishing their roots.

The humidity of Summer
Brings piquant flora to the fore.
Overpowering scents reveal
A perfumed, froliferous corps.

The smoky sense of Autumn’s leaves
Brings sweetened undertones of musk.
Crepuscular light dims the day
And in the air brings smells of dusk.

The Winter’s sacred promise holds:
We know the Earth’s a tender sheathe
To seeds which sprout and bloom and die,
Their life reminding me to breathe

The End

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