Mystic

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”