26 February 2011



there isn’t relief
no cease-fire parleyed
no stay of hostilities;

yet there is peace – a
broad-brimmed hat sort
of bucolic tranquillity

shade for the sun-tender
jousts with grades of
warmth too hard to beat

even best laid plans beset
where cool ideas fail to
meet iced expectations

and rampant grass growth
lays seed persuasively
for new-fangled allergies

grainy eyes aflame, nose-bleed
sneezing wracks perdition’s
wretched rashes

to be gone in a week like
a fast-passing plague –
palliatively relieved!
© 17 November 2010, I. D. Carswell