Linden Now

Cat slouches in an open sill,
While apple gold-green
Light transports the
Heady scent of linden,
Aphrodisiac of smell and light,
The motionless end of day.
But how do light and scent move so,
On quiet air,
Near-tactile waves,
To knit and stitch
This all together?
There is no sound but bird, the
Baaing of the sheep for corn
Because the light says
It is time, in the
Pause of streaming gold.
Quiet, the plush of night arrives,
Carrying the strands that waft
Far above the rain-soaked earth,
Wild-weathered early summer day,
Rain off, then on, the stuff of
Rainbow, smell of sod and linden.
Whoever sits and
Smells the linden
In its ephemeral season
Is changed; I swear light carries scent,
And in this fractal moment,
There is only this:

Light
Rain
Smell of
Linden

And then the subtle shift,
Harbingered by half-moon in
Still near day-lit sky, rising from the rain,
Before the night’s new universe—
I made it wait, just now, so I could
Fold the sensate, feeling drifts
Into the velvet close.