Truth

Would that I could sense the world
with the plethora of scent that must exist
for our golden retriever, Rosie.

For her, no scent is bad, all hold interest,
all are a part of the story of her world.
I would sense the presence of those I love by their scent:

sandalwood, baked bread, and nutmeg
would be my bear of a husband, and
his squared off view of the world;

citrus, sage, lavender, and thyme
would be my lovely girl,
poet after my heart;

cucumber, vanilla, a dash of garlic and salt
would be my older son,
autistic, brilliant, and warm in odd ways;

oak, honey, smoke, and yeast
would be my younger son,
crafter, brewer, and lover of all that grows.

Would that I could see them all through scent
instead of my eyes,
how much more beautiful, more true, this world would be.