I write poems that incorporate scents a lot.
From the giggles of hyacinths dodging Spring raindrops that puddle on the concrete.
To the familiar scent of White Linen perfume and the leather jacket my Gram would wear when she took me shopping.
The only disappointment of my Keurig is that it doesn’t quite fill my bungalow with the aroma of coffee like my old fashioned drip pot did.
Aromas are as vital, if not more so, than shadows, hues and shades
Touch and tastes.
Symphonies of nature and Spirits.
Blend into beauty.
Some of my nosey neighbors: