We, the Coronado Scribes, consist of both professional and amateur writers. We have in common a desire to learn, by sharing our efforts and listening to other writers. We hold pressure-less sessions every Wednesday, at the Coronado Library conference room, starting at 1:30. Often we have guests who wish to just listen. They are welcome, and so are you. Each week on eCoronado, we feature a different piece of prose or poetry produced by one of our writers. Please feel free to comment or ask
These Flowers Smell Like A Memory
by Mary Beth Dodson
The air has captured a scent
And I am caught off-guard
It isn’t just the smell
Oh, it is mostly the smell,
But then, too
..it is the mourning doves
Cooing in some high place
That brings back another time
Maybe it is that the sun is about to set,
A calmness in the air
The aroma staggers me.
Nostalgia sweeps over me,
What am I remembering?
Petunias. The old fashioned kind.
Not those hybridized in multi-colors
And taught to grow in waves.
Just plain fragrant petunias.
Once more it is evening
And the day is winding down,
My parents sitting in their
Striped canvas lawn chairs,
The doves murmuring their sleepy songs.
And I am sitting on the front step,
Close to the bed of purple petunias,
Undoing my roller skates. 
8/28/2013 © Mary Beth Dodson
