Winter scent

Just a murmur of a scent — 
whispering as it passes in my nose —
announcing a chill with a hint
of pine (sweet as it burns) carrying
smokey remembrances of hot chocolate
afternoons on rising clouds 
of melting obligations.

Those fabled days — when white 
shrouded the world as far as
we could image — of mythic adventures
unfold like loosely packed snowballs
too ravishing for famished children
hungry to breathe in winter’s 
husky bite too often now.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for two prompts: BrewNSpew Cafe (“fable”) and Imaginary gardens with real toads (“scent”)