You walk with feet padded, on the brook, on the path
Jump up on the step
Down on the stump
On the dry leaf
Nose pitched high in the sky
The smells
percolate
The wind
whispers through your nostrils
setting sail to myriads of stories
A blender of histories
in one inhalation
A sense so integral
So delicate
and wise
Some say you are less than
Not incarnated human
But
How many
Sniff their beloved
From a car
Down a hall
On a road
And surge with bliss
from the whiff of it?
.
.
.
Image: Kipine on Deviantart