Scent of the Day, or Heaven Scent

 

Smell That


How ghastly that man

just sitting there

imagining a futile future

a snarl or smile

upon his lips

waiting for the fragrant gas

of life or death or mediocrity

to dance out of his ass

or belch from his mouth

along with a grimace losing sarcasm

as if given a gift of mercury

to raise or lower the skeptic temperature

of his simple inadequacy

to enact the barb of justice

back into, if it ever was there

of society

of gracious living

of caring

of sweet amusement

like a child seeing a balloon dance

into the air filled only with breath

and the hope of soft brilliance

a star of the day

a bubble arising from water to air

the sashay of a fish swimming

a bird flying

a human with a heart filled with affection

surrounded by others who care

who laugh a gentle laugh

the bubble/balloon ascends

without a care, with hope

and beauty ascending

breathing the breath of heaven

the pulse the life of the universe


Sunday of the Palms, the mule march of the prince of peace 

24 March 2024

©james marshall frase-white ♪♪♪

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