PERFUMED PATHS:

I stepped out this dawn, expecting to be slapped in the face by frost´s cheeky fingers, to be berated & blinded by wind´s cruel blasphemy, to be prodded & sodded by winter´s last stubborn slush. But as I tentatively put one foot in front of the other, I felt it, a nuance, a shifting, the wet blanket of winter had been lifted. During the night, God had uncorked & opened spring´s perfume urn.

Seeds were splitting, pods cracking, buds unfurling, blooms uncurling, trees were shimmying in their new pretty dresses, saplings stretching their young armed branches. There were diamond dewdrops instead of rain´s teardrops, sprinkled upon hedgerows & golden smiles were bestowed upon pathways by the benign sunshine.

I wended my way down pathways of perfume, scents tickling my senses. Olive groves & fruit orchards scenting the air, orange blossom, Spanish azahar & lime kissed breath, burnished kumquats, golden quinces, tamarinds & almond blossoms garbed in pink & white filigree, all feeding my soul. Jasmine & lady of the night, Spanish the dama de noche, wafting around me, new roses gently calling my name. The ancient & wise old olive & carob trees exuding their scented oils, of earth & deep chocolate, whetting passing appetites, yet un-sated.

I walk over the hill, escorted by the fragrances of wild herbs, lilac lavender, laurel, thyme, sage, rosemary & more, all caressing my passing bare legs. The blackbirds garbed in ebon plumes & lemony nebs, heralding the arrival of spring, love & new life. The sky above, a cobalt canvas, spattered with golondrinas, those little Spanish swallows, dipping & darting. The cacophony of these tiny winged choristers, echo in the balmy breezes that mantle my soul. I espy a shy rabbit peeping, a cavorting squirrel in an overhead pine tree. I pass a moss-kissed & giggling stream, where I see a scarlet dragonfly dipping & sipping & the little green frogs sitting upon wet rocks laughing & mocking my clumsy humanness.

I walk under a canopy of trees where the dappled sunshine gaily plays with the cool mauve shadows. A pine cone falling with a thud, a nut rolls, a feather glides, a petal floats. Out of the emerald copse, over the butter-cupped hill & I arrive at the seashore. A cyan blue sea sighing gently, as it is tickled by an impish breeze, which produces upon it´s voluptuous body, shivers of white foam, those magnificent white steeds upon its crest, hailing in new tides & paying homage to the mother moon. The orgasmic perfume now morphing into the pungent & brinily ozonic & heady scent, which sends me into the spinning vortex of seasonal change.

A turquoise butterfly alights upon my waiting hand & I am truly blessed. I dance, I run, I spin, I sing & deeply I breathe. God has uncorked the perfume urn of spring & now there is no turning back.