Woodsmoke: A Poem

 

Lynx the deodorant comes in many scents

None of them particularly pleasant

Each a sort of olfactory equivalent 
 
Of the concept of banter
 
One scent that Lynx the deodorant does not come in 
 
Is Woodsmoke
 
Woodsmoke is too good for Lynx
 
You cannot bottle Woodsmoke
 
And you most definitely cannot can it
 
When summer dies
 
And you remember that autumn is short
 
And winter is long
 
Woodsmoke arrives on the breeze
Or cuts through the frost
 
To tell you, “It’s all going to be ok.”
 
But not in a bullshitting, motivational, sugarcoated way
 
It is seasoned with history
 
Your own
 
And another
 
Unfathomable
 
Untouchable 
 
But smellable
 
And very there
 
They say that trees are more sociable than we think
 
That far underground
 
Their roots are talking to one another
 
And maybe that’s why woodsmoke is always a good friend
 
It will never cloak a genuine insult in humour
 
Then when you do not appreciate it
 
Tell you, “Awright mate, come on, can’t you take a joke?”
 
It could never do that
 
Never in the million years it has been here
 
Never in a milion more
 
It will never repeat an inane buzzword
 
As a substitute
 
For a personality
 
It will never be empty
 
It is always full of good thoughts, and wisdom
 
Woodsmoke could never be banter
 
Because it is something infinitely superior
 
It is conversation

 

 



My new book Help The Witch is out on October 18th. You can order it here

8 thoughts on “Woodsmoke: A Poem

  1. You made me smell woodsmoke in my room. I never thought of any scent in a way that I have now. You helped me open my eyes in a new and better way

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