Autumn 3 (Smell)

 

Scents of Autumn

 

Dampness, as I pass through my woodland path,

Assails the air, capturing my nostrils.

Decay; the air is full of the spores of funghi;

I force my way through atmospheric truffle.

Ground softens with fallen apples

Whose rising aroma, sharp, astringent

Scrapes the nose with its edge,

 Strangely different in its decay,

Cutting on the frosted air,

To be subsumed by wood-smoke

As burning branches smoulder

Under damp leaves piled in Vesuvial cones,

Sifting wisps to ride upon the air’s moistness.

 

John Berry

 

Reviews

[Emily Rose]

I believe I'm missing one, for I can't find number three anywhere, unless "Hearing Autumn" was number three (it wasn't marked) in which case I'm missing number two.

Ah but this is wonderful. One of my very favorite smells in the world is that of burning autumn leaves, so it was exciting when you touched on the wood and leaves in your poem. For a poem so short, you use the word "decay" twice - the second time you should, perhaps, switch it to something else: delapidation, rot, etc. I love the comparison to the air as "atmospheric truffle" although to me "truffle" implies richness and decedence (ooh, there's another good word for decay with a double meaning), which is too soft and not sharp enough for your comparison.

As usual, very well done. Way to capture my nose and make it tingle in remembrance of autumn. Smell, apprently, is the most powerful sense to trigger nostalgia and your poem does just that.