Sunday, March 21, 2010


It's time for Nature's reveille call,
And we know that Winter is done,
When birds and bees, and flowers and all
Awake to the Springtime sun.

Along with the coming of Spring are some
Of the signs of the changing scene;
Pleasing scents of the season will come
With the turning of brown to green.

I love the clean fresh smell in the air,
That comes with the April showers;
No store perfume will ever compare
With the fragrance of blossoming flowers.

I love the scent of the new-turned loam,
The gentle zephyrs will bring,
From the fields around our suburban home,
When the farmers plow in the Spring.

I love the aroma of new-mown hay,
As it cures in the Summer sun;
I love the smell as they stow it away
In the barn, when haying is done.

If country odors were all like these,
Everything would be Heavenly there;
But now and then, borne on the breeze,
Is a smell that would curl your hair!

When one of these rare odors assail
A veteran born to the range,
He holds his breath and doesn't inhale,
As he waits for the wind to change!

--Acres of Verse (1994)

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