I’ve been playing with interesting thoughts, like homemade playdough, but my writing has gone gimpy with pollen. It’s hard to breathe yellow air. For the past two weeks I’ve been inhaling mouthfuls of fuzzy air so thick with reproductive power it’s dozy-making. And I’m getting terrible mileage, as if my air filter needs changing. Tonight I’m listening to welcome rain splashing the earth clean again. The oxygen will be friendlier tomorrow. Hope floats on yellow puddles.