Pollen rains

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With the green-golden dust that settles on the windowsills before the Saturday cleaning, come the butterfly-like petals landing on our shirts, between white strawberry flowers, piles of soft pink under trees.

The air is thick. Trees drop caterpillars on the road, blue half-shells of robins’ eggs. Before the end of June the house will be coated in pollen dust, our windows will need washing, windowpanes will be green as moss.

The children and I go out in the pollen rains and are doused in them, stained and sneezing, watery-eyed, thrilled. At the end of June we will leave you pacing in the house in the dark room, we will drive away in the gray morning, pollen dust on the car windshield.

May 22, 2021