Country Perfume
A buoyant bouquet, tangy and taunting,
Country Perfume rides the air.
“I’m here” she laughs, “find me if you can.
Catch me if you dare.
In Mellow Valley, a garden of fig and fir,
Roses and lilacs and lawns
Beneath a harvest moon, browse bunnies
And bats, Feline, foxes and fawn.
Along with her nocturnal neighbors,
Gold and gray and brown,
A skunk searches through the tended soil,
Her ebony nose to the ground.
Black as the Redwood’s night shadow,
Modeled in the full moon’s light,
She digs for morsels of bug and grub,
Flaunting her fancy white stripe.
Both friend and foe know her, and name her;
Sweet Pea, Le Peu and Flower,
And respectfully give her the right of way
In deference to her perfume power.
With the morning comes our gardener,
Her green watering can in hand,
She sees her succulents, newly set, scattered
From the toppled plant stand.
A buoyant bouquet, tangy and taunting,
Country Perfume rides the air.
“I’m here” she laughs, “find me if you can.
Catch me if you dare.”