Every so often in the landscape
False acacia in bloom,
Before the white drooping
Cascade of florets
The smell, unlike any other
Reverberant in the air
Like a high c in a cathedral
Wisps into the air
Carried on the warmth
Reflected from the earth
The joy of these few molecules
Of scent, transcends the ugly
Odour of the road
Tar and piss and death
To look up to the sky
And breath in…
This angel of the trees