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Getting airfull

After a bright start and damp middle
the evening of the day brings quiet warmth:
the year on the cusp.
Autumn mushrooms show through sheltering mosses;
the final iris buds bloomyellow in the drier borders to the pond.
I run the quad up to the barn to ready the bowser for filling from the tap.
As momentum moves the air around my face
I gulp complex fills of growing things
and cut grass, wetted road dust; the scent of old stone.
Mostly a universe of small flowers massed at the base of more ambitious plants
that, right now, hold sway over the world
by fragrance.

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2 thoughts on “Getting airfull

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