14 January 2010
She stood and walked across the green lawn, soft butter-yellow dress lifting with the breeze away from her legs, her bare feet leaving shallow prints in the wet grass. Her senses heightened as she moved, every smell sight and sound clearer and fresher, anticipation like needles under her skin.
She wandered, lost in thoughts of him, to the stand of tall pines at the end of the lawn. The scent of the pines enveloped her, a heady sharp tang, the aroma rich and earthy. Sunlight from above sent shafts of muted light through the trees. Light and shade, blue-green and mellowed white moving across her face as she wove a pattern across the floor of soft needles, the scent rising with each step.
As she left the pines to go back to her house, her yearning for him left her dizzy. She remembered his green eyes, the scent of him, his dark hair under her fingers, his whispered words in her ear. Her desire was palpable, shimmering the air around her. Before going inside, she stopped beside the trellis of roses outside the kitchen door. The rain had left drops of cool water on the fragile petals. She gathered handfuls of them and held them against her face, inhaling the musky sweet scent that settled on her skin and hair.
She entered the kitchen and turned on her favorite music. She needed to cook, to create, to keep busy. Soon the sound of music filled the room, notes twisting like ribbons. Deep blue-notes, heavy with suspense. Fiery pizzicatos filled with passion. Accompanying the sound of the music, the chop-chop of her knife, the bubble of boiling water, the age-old scent of fresh basil and the sizzle of olive oil. She opened a bottle of deep red wine, pouring and holding the glass to the light. A dark rich jewel. She sipped the wine and tasted the heady power of it.
She turned to the window and noticed the sun falling behind the tall pines, the sky changing from blue to a soft purple bruise. As she stood silently, she heard a door open and shut and suddenly he was standing behind her, his reflection staring back at her in the darkening window. As she turned to him, her scent rose and wrapped itself around him. Pine, rain and roses. On her lips, the taste of dark smoky wine, promises.......and home.
[The latest one-word offering from the much respected poet, Lerrnst, was "pine". My initial reaction to the word was scent, an instant sensory reaction. The senses are the fuel for the strongest emotions. And I do SO love the senses. Thank you favorite Avatar. Also, the background for this little tale came from a dream I had not too long ago.]
Posted by Diana Lee