Colour flares
a storm in the eye
I am drawn
by a fragrance
sudden, sharp
familiar
settling around me
stabbing
making a hole in the memory
There it is
lordly, glorying
in saffron
a Buddha taking wing
A window opened
a lamp suddenly lit
burgeoning
taut as glass
not the yellow of
the minor flowers
not opaque
but translucent
a yellow that soars
inhaled, the fragrance persists
light held
in a globe
I stay where I am –
something has changed