Scents of the Past


Scents of the Past


It’s suffocating, it is. 

A soupy, grey, sunless evening.

Almost rain hovering with damp promises.

At the edge, an orange, post-apocalyptic sky.

But the dog has needs, telegraphed with pleading eyes.

The dog run is a slender green afterthought,

limits set by a black iron fence

and a grey wall that marks the boundary,

spotted with memories in shades of yellow.

Freed, he explodes into the run

searching for the rabbits that run there too,

burrowing under the wall,

teasing with their earthy scents.

He hoovers them up. All old friends by now.

Another dog, a cat, a mouse, the faint smell of petrichor.

He can smell far more than you or me,

100,000 times, enough to sniff out cocaine or cancer,

more than enough to know the past.

Here and there he leaves his own calling card,

a message for friends he seldom sees.

The rain delivers on its promise



 Brian Cummings


Brian Cummings is a retired public relations executive. He started his career as a reporter for a major market newspaper and switched to public relations early in his career. He has written two cookbooks and numerous articles, press releases, and speeches. Two of his poems have been published in the Ariel Chart International Literary Journal. He and his wife, Maureen, live in Allen, Texas.




  1. the art serves this piece very well as it is known scent can trigger suppressed memories and bring out the truth. well done.

  2. These is a beautiful tribute to man's best friends. Well done, beautiful work.

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