The smell of Spring in Merewether;
The jasmine on our fence.
The dark green leaves, the creamy flowers
Growing riotous and dense.
They last the shortest moment, then petals turn to brown,
And, one by one, they langorously
Lazily drift down.
But the scent hangs on for longer,
Perfuming all the air,
Telling us that the jasmine,
The jasmine of Spring was there.
Another herald here: