-- Perfume of the Night --

By John Herlihy

Twilight shuts the senses down,

The day’s face puts on a frown.

Ah, a faint hint in the cooling air,

Nights fix what days cannot repair.

In the coolness, a hint of rain,

Oceanic while still being plain.

In the absence of sound, a hush,

On the horizon’s lip, twilight’s blush.

Emptiness of odor smells as thirst,

Of all senses, the nose reacts first.

An army enters that has no right,

At first invading from out of sight.

Perfume of the night with vague hints,

Coils of licorice, or oil of peppermints.

The leafy banana tree with overripe fruit,

Squirrels rushing home with stolen loot.

Indelicate smells of earth seem exotic,

Dew-drenched grass holds smells erotic.

Night buds Intoxicate in waves of beauty,

To randomly stir our moods as if their duty.

Other senses will soon react, ears and eyes,

The sawing of crickets, the glow of fireflies.

Yet what compares to the perfumes of night

That fill our wary souls with their rare delight.

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(c) John Herlihy 2 October 2018