Primal Glue

No smell evokes hunger,

on late afternoons,

quite like the, driftIng,

distant hickory fire.

Its scent saturates

the woodland around

with the promise of hearth

in all of its meanings.

Comfort and kin,

safety and warmth,

food and good cheer,

the social embrace.

Like some olfactory anthem,

that flavor saturates

the world,

the food,

my very soul.

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