Pasture Waves

…olfactory…

From a distance, it’s hard to see, but the waves carry it in the air…from that huge bowl of a valley…the pastures.

…sweeping waves…

Closer, pastures rolling up and rolling across the slopes, the fields. My eyes and nose battle to receive their outpouring.

…beautiful complexities…

Invisible micro-whisps rising, swirling…they enter my nose, uninvited, confusing my sense of beauty with olfactory complexities; but then my receptors are overtaxed and I can receive no more—so I look and my eyes gradually suffer the same fate.

Why are these pleasures time-stamped? Am I being protected from following some forbidden sensual path into the home of these glorious plants?

Just a question. Because I will visit these pastures again tomorrow and for a brief moment share their waves of ecstasies.

3 thoughts on “Pasture Waves

  1. Time stamped? An interesting idea — perhaps, if we were surrounded by them all the time they would lose their ability to inspire, to awe, to fill us with possibility.

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