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”


Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash