Carolina jasmine blooms in the dry
August air, supported by rosemary,
as both provide a winter home
for bees and beetles and lady bugs,
turning the wall from that which divides
into a living yellow fragrance, gracing
the space between, generously.

Wherever we wander, we seem to find
the wisdom of yellow and purple,
lighting a way for eyes across the spectrum,
singing a soft harmony that stretches in waves
across all the time it took to develop
this particular taste for smells
and all they suggest about simple living.

There is no way back
to my complicated ways of loving,
this joyful scent assures me.
The turtle doves croon a careful peace
and even the mynahs are sharing stories
of hospitality and forgiveness,
all this way from the ocean where
the hornbills are wintering in a mahogany tree
which has seeded a whole forest.

It's like nothing I've ever sensed before,
and it is totally familiar,
my heart gliding on yellow currents,
laughing softly with the world.