The Scent of Wood Smoke and the Sea

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

He smelled of wood smoke and the sea,

Crinkly eyes and that mischievous smile.

A bear; impatient for us to get up, get going,

The day waits for no one.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was sunrise.

He was faith.

He was chopping wood and musky plaid shirts.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was earnest intensity on the brink of laughter.

He was seriousness overlaying a playful heart,

This is no drill, this is the real thing.

He was salty low tides and hand-made everything.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

He’s in the flickering fluorescent lamp in the shed,

The rich saturation of it all that is the woods.

Like filtered light, sneaking through cedar branches.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Twenty years gone, I still, for a fleeting moment, catch it.

That scent in the breeze,

Salt water and wood smoke.

And I know he’s still here; a part of me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

For George.


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