Couplets to The Five Senses

Jasmine’s heavy tendrils leak perfume redolent of dawn,
a vowel amongst late February consonants of lavender and lawn.

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The deliquescent blues of lobelia make
recollections flurry and my optic nerves ache.

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Curling into the lap of my tongue, flavours interrupt speech
to murmur new dimensions of saffron, plum, guava and peach.

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The bliss is sudden, certain as gold beneath my feet,
at the boundary where the road and the dandelions meet.

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In the desperate fiddling of crickets, the drawbridge to sleep is drowned;
when it ceases, my ears paint the night with the memory of the sound.