An aroma

An aroma

As sweet as a summer morning

Heavy with dew

Sparkling diamond bright

Against a carpet of freshly

Cut grass

There is music

As cicadas sing along

To Joni Mitchell

On the radio

Bemoaning the loss

Of her old man

There are no yellow taxis

But there are Buttercups

Growing everywhere

Perhaps there was

A fantasy of fairies

Dancing in the moonlight

It is easy

To remember

The inconsequentials

As the toaster pops

Up with joy

Whole grain has a train

Of memories running right through

To the melted butter

Hold that thought

It will cause a heart flutter

As the coffee pot

Bubbles on the stove

An aroma

Full of yesterday

A fine prompt

To remember how to start

A brand new day

I determine not to stop

Before the world does

Else I am flung

Out into space

To orbit as a satellite

Time upon time

Returning to the place

Where all slow endings

First begin

To show their

Less than graceful face

Mirrored in a morning

Of reflection.