Morning Garden Perfume

Someone has said that all you need Is a library and a garden In order to harden Yourself against life, or so I read. My library is stuffed with tomes so full My wife has vowed I'm not allowed To give in to another book's literary pull. But out in the garden I'm my own man For she won't step outside To even decide On a flower bed, bush or a patio plan. Out there in the garden of perfume and hues Honeysuckle and roses Tickle our noses In as religious an experience as pulpits and pews. Pungent tomatoes and the pale scent of string beans, Yellow squash blossoms And marigold awesomes Twist scents and senses into imaginary scenes Where tall okra and hollyhocks are kings and queens And only peasants of history Are allowed to be sensory In a land where only noses will know what it means. by E. Marshall Evans