Beneath blue sky arms entwined swaying in long borders hundreds side by side.

Blooms of pink on stalks, some upright as soldiers others leaning weakly on the path heads blown in all directions by the wind.

Pinks in stiff, flared, ragged skirts, dancing, scattering to me their hypnotic scent to be picked up and whipped away by the breeze

Their faces open all revealing and inviting a visit from the busy buzzing bees.

Hundreds of buds, peeping out at angles, waiting their turn to burst into action, to keep the show going for months and months.

As I traveled the world at unexpected moments the scent trapped in my subconscious would pop out drawing with it a memory.

Taking me, back, to my first sight of pinks in action, long ago on a beautiful Scottish highland day.

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