How delicate yesterday

So delicate yesterday,
the night-singing birds by the creek.
Their words were:
You may make a jewelery flower
out of gold and rubies and emeralds,
but it will have not fragrance.

-- Rumi

Meow

Lay your jacket down for me
so that, cat like
I can sniff your cuffs and collar
push my head into the dark tunnel of your arm
and rub my face against the shiny lining.
I'll knead myself a black nest
sink down into your scent
and start to purr.

--Chantelle Franc

Scent of love

I am focusing on the Song of Songs in this week's Love Letters from Home class, and because of it am increasingly interested in scent.

I find myself wanting to smell the scent of love. I want to breathe deeply of his scent, and see how it varies from beard to nape, from throat to wrist.

I imagine his fingertips to smell faintly of copper and salt.

In the fulfillment of time, will there be sweat?