04/04/2022
Pollinated air
whips up,
stirs up
but subtley
a vein of
melancholy
just past equinox.
Sweet drip
of warm
strain just
uncoiling
from the point-blank
faded yonder.
Do not err,
go mistaking
warmer days
for promise—
A hidden vein
of lingering blue
goes hidden
underneath.
Sweet pollen
whisks by
for a
warm-glow
honey grimace;
days gone
orange ever since,
they've passed us
up forever.