Scent of Memory

In a late October beach walk
I see only strange seaweed,

high tide debris, puff mud,
feel ocean spray, smell salt

water---until I cross wind
with smoke. Cigar scents

suffocate me save one
familiar blend: the brand

my grandpa puffed when
I was a boy. Today---more

than sixty years since I last
smelled that flavor, a hint

of cinnamon toast, perhaps
parched peanuts--on a

windy Carolina shore,
memory lives in aromas.