I know that the smell of lavender reminds me
of my father and bumblebees.
he would always stop outside our house,
sniff their purple in deep,
flutter his eyelids
to catch the scent better
in the breeze,
hum along to the wings of bees.
I know that being a fertile young man
ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,
can get you in more trouble than good
at twenty, thirty, forty,
when sacred raw minutes
which feel like the universe
leave behind…
