For Paul Brookes’ challenge.

Scarcely scented

The scent of wildflowers is suave,
subtle, too subtle for human senses.

So much mauve and blue, bugloss,
bugle and borage, yellow-eyed daisy,
sundial salsify and celandine, the dawn
pink of oxalis, spun sugar of poppy petals,
all mute.

The burden of the brush of colour
enough for their fragility.

Only the blossoms soar,
acacia, apple, plum and lemon,
the heady honeysuckle,
climbing through pale musk of dog rose,

and the scarcely yellow,
inconspicuous spires of winding green,
banks of bedstraw perfume the early summer air
with drifts of purest honey.