a metallic twang
like the sound plucked
on a steel guitar
hangs in the air
between notes of
eucalyptus and spruce
on the inhale, an aroma
leafy around the edges
evergreen at its core
on the exhale, sweetness
a taste of tobacco
lying leesy on the tongue
the impression lingers, optimistic
as a freshly laundered shirt
hung out to dry
in Chinook winds that blow
where the Canadian prairies
and the Great Plains meet
beneath it all, a bouquet garni
of noble rot, loosing its balm
with every footfall
at the edges, you taste it
the air gone flinty
on a promise of winter
yomimiyo 
A lovely piece of writing by that beautiful woman that I’m lucky enough to be able to call my wife.
Thankfully no one can see me blushing…gracias mi amor
Allison. Have you read Diane Ackerman’s “A Natural History of the Senses”? If you haven’t I think you would really enjoy it–based on your beautiful perceptions and writing.
Thank you so much for the recommendation! I just checked it out on Goodreads and it looks like a book I’d absolutely enjoy…muchas gracias! And for your kind words😊
Wonderful pieces, Alison! Thanks to dear friends who moved to Mérida, Eck Follen and Charles Swanson, I have just learned of your website and writings . . .
Well thank you for reading, Meredith…and your kind words. I am happy to call Eck and Charlie my friends!
Just found this in my email. It is a poem. Very nice. You would not like the Alberta air today. 😦