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”