Scooping alpaca manure
this morning,
as usual,
there was this smell—
but not the usual one.
Sweetness
was in the air.
Couldn’t be Honeysuckle;
those blossoms are gone.
Ah…
there, those pink blossoms—
like the fancy heads of African birds—
floating in the ferny leaves
of Mimosa,
perfuming the farm.

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