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The Smell of Spring- Poem and Artwork

The four seasons are each so distinct here in New Hampshire. There are specific things that stick in my mind for each one.

When I was Just a Child

I love the way the sun plays

With the shadows on the wall

Through the windows they create a cascade

Of clear golden showers for all.

I have to draw the light in so tight

And hold it close

I don’t want to let go of

This warmth that releases me.

I take it in, all the way in

I breathe in the soft glow

I am at once alive,

I can’t deny

The sun has saved

My silent soul.

When it is spring, I open windows wide

To breath in crisp air intermingled with spice.

I smell the wisps of perfume

When I am in my mother’s room.

What words could I use

To express the sweet bliss

Of fragrances that blend

All the smells are defined

In my nostrils

Completely intertwined.


As I Get Older

I smell

the maple coursing through trees


the end of winter fakes a thaw


The wind does not feel as raw.

I breathe in

the warmth.

I see

puddles perforating the pavement

As the

rotten filth is washed away

by the

rain that fell the other day.

I soak

it in.

As with Spring,

as with me.

It's time for

A new beginning.

Here is one of my favorite flowers Can you guess what it is?

Here is one of my favorite flowers Can you guess what it is?

More of my Poetry:

  • Mixed Moods and other poetry
    the fallen may rise again: Her bright eyes shine and elven voice sings.My fingertips drum as his chopping thrums. Making Music: My head spins with The colorful chaos. My fingers jump and wrists twist
  • Erin B Best Dramatic Poetry: Noises, Demons, At A De...
    Noises Bloodsucking mesh of a messed up mind is seeking for a good remark the shriek of demons She shrieks sharply through the iron gatethat is closed against my pervading spirit.Poems by ErinB

© 2012 Erin Buttermore

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