Tag: Nature

A Fragrant Place

A Fragrant Place

Let us go to the calling fields,
for the grove is pregnant with olives
ripe with rainbow
shades of purple, and celadon
pearls enter the race,
awakened from dreams
of yellow blossoms,
butterflies
and bees.

O bring me rinds of bergamot,
mandarin and lime,
branches of cedar
and sandalwood,
lemongrass —
and in the clearing
build a fire
for my kettle
of perfume.

Let the scents simmer
while with the sun
we walk the day,
but remember the pathways,
twists of trails,
faces of forests —
take me back
to that fragrant place
when twilight falls.

by D. G. V. © 2012

Originally posted 2012-05-23 10:10:23.

Twilight and the Scent of Honeysuckle

Stepping outside this evening, I was unexpectedly greeted by the lingering fragrance of honeysuckle climbing through the lilacs. The garden, at the end of May, seemed briefly suspended between bloom and fading.

Twilight and the Scent of Honeysuckle ​
​
twilight—
the scent of honeysuckle​
fills the lavender air,
lilacs and dogwoods ​
sing their last notes
of song—
​
twilight—
the scent of white peonies
intoxicates,
while yellow and purple irises​
are at the tip of bloom, ​
and day lilies
await to explode ​
in tangerine madness— ​
​
twilight—
at the end of May
in my garden
suspended
between blossom
and fading

—D. G. Vachal​ ©2026

Almost April

Almost April — there is a moment just before spring fully arrives,​ ​​
when nothing seems to have changed, ​​​
and yet, everything has already begun.​​​
​​​
Almost April
​​​
when crocuses,​​​
aconites​​​
speckle colors​​​
on frigid earth,​​​
and buried bulbs unfurl​​​
their green fingers —​​​
​​​
Somewhere​​​
a cold cauldron sits​​​
atop a flame,​​​
warmth simmers:​​​
imperceptible​​​
as approaching dawn.​​​
​​​
Almost morning:​​​
​​​
when softest tones tiptoe​​​
through purple darkness,​​​
and wakening lark arises​​​
in radiant song,​​​
ruptures​​​
daybreak deafness.​​​
​​​
Almost laughter

— D. G. Vachal​​​
​​​
​This poem is from my collection​​​
The Turning of Light
a book that follows the quiet unfolding​​​
of the seasons within and around us.​​​
​​​
If you’d like to explore the full collection:​​​

The Turning of Light
​​​
Image (public domain): William J. Forsyth (American, 1854–1935), Crocuses, oil on canvas.​

The Turning of Light


The cover of my second poetry book collection, The Turning of Light, features Claude Monet’s luminous painting, Woman With a Parasol, Facing Left (1886), one of the most beloved images of the Impressionist movement.​

​In the painting, Monet captured more than a woman standing in a field. He captured a moment of living light — clouds drifting across the sky, wind moving through tall grass, and sunlight shifting across the landscape.​

​Nothing in the scene is still. Light moves, the sky changes, and the moment itself seems to pass even as we look at it.​

​That quiet transformation of light lies close to the spirit of the poems in The Turning of Light, which follow the turning of the seasons and the subtle ways time reshapes memory, love, and the inner life.​​


The Turning of Light can be found on Amazon in Kindle, paperback, and hardcover versions.