the scent of pine
as match meets wick
sends me

to Christmases
of childhood at
Grandma’s house

into the canyons
on the Harley
with you

into the forest
on the way to
the lake

pine wafts
upstairs with me
after the candle is snuffed

pulls down the covers
and tucks me in
safe, secure

pine scent
lulls me to sleep
to dream of gentle days

past
present
and yet to come