it is the season of afflictions
slung invisible in perfume-
laden air – a heady scent
with redolence intense and
no reprieve hangs everywhere
we breathe and sneeze and
clear our throats disturbing
motes and minute grains of
pollen floating ere the gentle
breezes tease our hair
reddened eyes are squinted
slits in Springtime glare – we
note relief a distant thief with
six more weeks to wend before
this flowering seasons ends...
© 29 August 2008, I. D. Carswell
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