They say Texas lacks seasons. Perhaps our spring, summer, winter and fall are not as well defined at they are elsewhere, but we do have seasons. They’re named for allergies.
I sniffed my way through oak and elm
And snorted through ragweed in June
A day and a half of relief in July
Til mold became my doom
My eyeballs are covered in angry streaks
And my nose is tickly and raw
I almost started to see the light
Til the cat nuzzled up against my jaw
Oh Texas, I love you, but your foliage
Has taken to my sinuses like a cleaver
And although I’ll breathe easily once we get a cold snap
It’s just a sweet break
Til my Texas Sweetheart,
Produced by Laura Rice.