Decades before
I knew
to name poetica -
or myself poet -
I swooned
countless hours
in birch shade

steeped
in perfumed sweetness
from modest blooms
arced over me -
moss-cushioned, prone -
acquiescing 
to slight breeze
as, it seemed, 
to me

their dizzying scent
wafting
the young air of spring
transports me back
to childhood,  
an ease
I now know
to name

swb 5.23