Soon the Smells Will Remind Me of Home

The warm morning sun filters through the green and red leaves of the trees. The white flowers of the dogwoods have since gone away. I sip my coffee and watch the elegant late Spring flowers dance like pretty girls in a field of memories. I have seen it before from a hamlet on the side of a sandstone mountain. I watch the smoke swirl and it is carried off with the thoughts and breath of our ancestors in the flickering of a paschal candle. The gray smoke from a cooking fire is present rising over the forest canopy. Soon the smells will remind me of home.