When the oak pollen falls, when the air hazes gold,
when black hens show sparkles of blond,
when windshield wipers are needed to see
through the film dropped by the frond,

when you pray for rain to clear the air
and wash the pavement clean,
when the temps are perfect for windows and breezes,
go inside and turn on the AC.

***

Good grief, it wouldn’t be NaPoWriMo without a pollen poem. Seriously high pollen count right now…