They call all experience of the senses mystic,
when the experience is considered.
So the tiny bud of lavender becomes mystic when I smell in it
The field and the rows, the purple breath of dusk
And the vibration of the bees.
All of which I can smell in the tiniest pebble.
If I smell these things in lavender, I am called mystic,
And by that they really mean intense – maybe even witchy.
The only way to smell lavender is to sniff it in the hand soap
And recall nothing unusual.
But when I smell the bud, I want the purple breath to feed me when I’m hungry.
Whiffing it during chores is sweet and decorative.
But I’m not here to be decorative.
Inspired by D.H. Lawrence “Mystic”