The smell of the sweat
as I lift my hat from my head,
the heat and days issues rise
like steam off a pressure cooker.

Snifter of scotch is poured,
the amber a tonic to see,
the smell of peat and seaweed,
the taste of smoke and salt.

******* back
and a quick refill,
begins to dull the edge
sharpened by Monday.

A treat sealed in a wood humidor,
opened up to another delicious smell,
tobacco from Dominica, I clip the end,
a quick dip in my scotch, and hunt the lighter.

A wood match found and lit
the burn invades my mouth,
puff, puff, puff, and exhale the smoke
as it climbs, so does my spirit.

I sit and put my feet up,
enjoying the tastes and smells
of wood smoke, tobacco, earth,
and letting both burns cauterize my soul.