Note to Remember...

This morning I heard: 
cicada sing-song;
the splash of water on rocks;
the yearning coo of mourning doves; 
the even, steady, pacing sound of my own footfalls. 

But how can I tell and remember the smell of July? 
Some mix of late honeysuckle, rank-growing sumac, 
all the blooming, bearing earthen scents, 
thick, and varied, and fecund.

Bittersweet comes later.