In the Smell of August Pasture
Fresh mowed hay lay in rows and rows,
listening to the stars reciting the poems,
reminding the journey still ahead;
help scent the world-pain-ridden air.
The perfume; the old cowboy’s first love;
his bone, skin, and soul.
In the smell, he finds her image, breath, and smile.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 
Beautifully redolent
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Because we live in farm country, this poem evokes many images and memories.
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Thank you, Jerry, for sharing them.
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Thank you, Derrick.
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