To the dusk
Flowers put their moods
In scented wafts
On which the eyes might close,
Deferring to the only open sense
Of the tantalised nose,
In which such enrichment
Is found in sweet distillate
Of earth and loam:
The mind somehow
Washed in perfumed sherbet,
Cleaned by something
Made perfect,
Alerted to the essential element
Volatile under the mid summer moon.
Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016
distilledvoice 
Love that photo, I recently wrote a post about honeysuckle too called ‘honeysuckle fireworks’ our photos look somewhat similar! 🙂
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I just love the scent!
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Yea me too, beautiful poem!
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Thanks very much. I’ll check out your honeysuckle post.
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