I rode my bicycle down around the pond as the sun set. Goose and gosling meandered nearby and the still pond mirrored the cloudless sky. In the fading light a crab apple in pink bloom shone scarlet while the dogwood in its silken dress glows the purest white. I think of you as their scent embraces me, a natural Chanel #5, rivaled only by jasmine or the mountain meadows of Wyoming.

A hundred cars drive by, I wonder if they know what they’re missing.