we drove south of the city,
and straight into a sunset
that had no sense of time
we were going nowhere together,
following our noses, as the saying
goes, breathing in the evening
reading in a bakery,I discovered
“the fragrance of our lives in the world” . . .
from someone else’s words rose
a reminder that the incense of
existence rises from small stories
and everyday memories
and slips under the doors of our
hearts like the smell of fresh bread,
a bouquet of belonging.