Purple scent

I can smell the strong scent of my grandmother's lilacs.
It has been a while, overcome by the blade of chainsaw.

Breezes floats in one window and out the other
a puff and then a gust
playing with me
trying to remind me why I love this place.

Even with the memories
Especially with the memories.
Those that are mine alone.

The first sight of a pure white Lady Slipper.
Walks around the lake
in early Spring
in the time when no one was here.

Smells and God everywhere.
Not a sound.
Beautiful solitude
Lungs and eyes pulling in a breath of peace.

A child completely, restfully alone.

Old rich pines, leaning in poetic directions
send shafts of primitive light
echoing over and over along the floor
of ancient rotting wood.

"Don't clear those fallen trees", she said,
"They are a habitat for animals".
And so they stay, huge and dark.

blocking my path and reminding me that

I am smelling the lilacs again today.