Eucalyptus tree in my garden
I was inspired to write this poem many years ago, when we lived part time in London. It was a damp, depressing November day. I had finished shopping for groceries and was feeling homesick for sunny Perth. As I walked out through the doors, wheeling my trolley and hoping to find a co-operative taxi driver, I was overwhelmed by the scent of gum leaves. The trolley was discarded as I raced towards that smell, so evocative of Australia.
‘Can I help you? Do you want to buy a bunch?’ The woman serving flowers from her stall outside Sainsburys, probably thought she had a mad woman to deal with as I grabbed several long branches, pressed their blue-green pointed leaves to my nose and breathed in deeply. Tears were running down my face.
‘No, thank you,’ I said, carefully replacing them in their container, ‘I just want to smell them.’
Smell is said to be the most evocative of our senses. Have you too been affected?
Eucalypt Leaves
Sweaty armpits, old gym shoes,
potatoes rotting in a cupboard,
dirty nappies, pig manure,
a drunk, lolling in his vomit.
Burning tyres, gutted homes,
flames roaring through the bush.
Fried onions, vanilla beans,
bacon and toast and percolating coffee.
Leather seats in a new car,
rain on parched earth,
a baby, fresh from the bath.
Eucalypt leaves on a wet day in London.
Yardley perfume that granny used,
sweet peas, picked from a garden.
Old spice after-shave,
the coat you always wore.
Victoria Mizen