Brevard County in March before the Tracts of Residential Invasions

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

“every tree that is pleasant”

Eau de Cologne impérial, Guerlain (1860)

The essence of one hundred thousand whites

And yellows floats as fragrance in the noon.

This fragrance wafts as incense in the rites

Of blossoming beside the breezed lagoon.

The heat of sun in Florida along

The shores of Indian River days and nights

Continues holding incense like a song

That fades out slowly.  Even seraph flights

Might feel profane in evenings with this scent.

Cathedral naves seem jealous of the rows

Of orange trees.  At last what Christ’s words meant

That third day opens up in petal glows.

  The men’s and treble choirs with priests beside

    Them bow away from this perfuming tide.

~ Phillip Whidden