Required Post - Poetry 242 - Response to Visual Prompt

Sweet and endless,
undying rows of early lavender
stretching without limit, and becoming
the bittersweet scent carried by playful winds
becoming air
and richly lavishing the Tuscan earth in shades
of fragrant, flowing purple
from their emerald stems, to their bending
floral peaks, arching over in the summery breeze
as though bowing
to the goddess Sun above their finite heads
and they sing
enchanting songs of old Italian tales
as rugged fingertips to brush their soft and velvet points
breathing deeply from the flow
of healing aromas, fresh and wild
and they cannot help but to
tilt their heads toward the boundless sky
to close their eyes for a long moment and
smile while clouds tumble away like fear in the morning
gladly walking the eternal paths of lavender in
a world unlike their own.