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Apron And Smock

a neighbor's chimney smoke
drifts through a stand of jack pine
delivering small billows of fascination
onto my porch

the wide smile warmth of her kitchen
in every inhalation
and almond paste and cinnamon
a busy country oven

seepings of an open paint box and turpentine
sidle in as faint undertone

a unique blend of her, hearth, and home
nothing in the world smells quite like this

my nose becomes a projector
for all associated images
I fall back onto dog musty wicker
and watch

her private charms
like a peeping tom

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


I don't have to ask...I think I know , though I am definately not an aussie ( but am tempted at times to become one, If that is even possible!). I did not intend any double entendre, sometimes they happen, without conciously being aware of it. I hope, not too offensive.

thanks for your thoughts, and sorry for the (typical) lateness of my reply.

with respect and regard,


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