Of Which Nothing Compares

Of Which Nothing Compares

 

I smell the rain,

like a child smells a flower.

Its scent wafts through me

 

like coffee brewing,

 

like home-made cookies

fresh from the oven,

or grandfather’s pipe…

 

like a Douglas Fir tree

in the middle of December,

or the scent of a baby’s head,

 

of which

 nothing compares.

 

 

 

 

 

photography by Steve Hanks

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

Kelly, as I read your words, I could smell each specific aroma. You are absolutely right....nothing like the way a baby smells. I think holding a baby and feeling her/him climb into your neck is the most fantastic sensation in the world. Wonderful to read your words. Lydi**

[Kelly Scheppers]

Lydi, did you know Steve Hanks died last April? I was really surprised to learn about it...what a gifted photographer he was. Thank you so much for making my day!

[Lydia Shutter]

Yes, he was quite the artist. A great loss.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree dear Kelly. Simple places, scent of smells missed and holding a child. Precious places to know. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Kelly Scheppers]

Good to see you, John...thank you so much!

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome Kelly.