O, smell the lavender!
the heat is oppressive—
and she comes, a shower of blond innocence,
tears brimming with uncertainty;
and I, caught in a dark flush, pause soaking wet,
as the ceiling fan spins forever circles, dizzily,
round and round in realization—
O, smell the lavender!
which she's come to leave upon my doorstep—
cream, lotion, and oil—
fragrance full circle, lingering;
fleeing to the shade, where hummers dodge the sudden sight;
to the shade, where a strangling sob startles deer into darkness;
to the shade—all shades of lavender—
For soon she'll have to leave—
plucked, cut and dried,
suspended upside down, to be hung upon the peg of memory,
severed from my hot sweet summer garden of lavender-blue love—
O, smell the lavender!