The Breeze

I wake. There’s a scent in today.
In the breeze, it’s that scent that comes once a year.
It’s that scent that carries in its raking across the
land, the years of my childhood.
It is there. It is reminiscence.
I breathe it in and am instantly torn between a smile and a pain.
I want to be there. There.
Where this scent speaks of.
Those years it resuscitates in my mind.
I do not see images but I smell the possibility
that was so fertile then.
Those moments then, in which simply the knowing
that youth was so much blessed brought a smile to your face.
And I want to go there, where this scent emanates from.
I want to stand there and watch its horizon, its twilight, its birth.
I want to hold what this scent speaks of, again, as in a dream I once did. As a child, perhaps.
And I lie there, the window allowing a narrow passage to this wind.
My eyes partially open.
I see something in this wind.
And I breathe more deeply.
I inhale to my lungs filling.
There is a color, a burnt orange,
a new horizon, a forgotten moment.
It is there, in this wind and I want
to explode as I breathe it in.
I want to shatter and be sent in its many directions.
I want to be undone and be recreated in this blowing breeze
that speaks of what I once was.
And I breathe.