The First Time Off That Plane Poem by Elia Michael

The first time I stepped off that plane
I breathed the aromatic air
It was hot and dry as no rain
In many months had fallen there

It smelt of herbs like rosemary
It smelt of others like wild thyme
And there amid this scenery
I felt at home for the first time

The sky above was a clear blue
I had never known such a place
One where warm and fragrant winds blew
That would lightly caress my face

The next time I stepped off that plane
I breathed in the summer evening
Those same scents greeted me again
And my smile was wide and beaming