Walking past a neighbor’s house, I pause
to smell the pine. A tree shoots up into the sky,
its long pliant needles pointing as if to say,
“Look at the sky, the earth, the air full of flying things!”
But, instead, I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath
of the sharp green scent so familiar it’s a part of me.
The sounds of the city fade as a hushed needle-covered
path rises up and I walk into my childhood.
Charlotte Hamrick lives in New Orleans with her husband and a menagerie of rescued pets. Her poetry, prose, and photography has been published in numerous online and print journals.