The haze is back,
Just our luck,
Grey skies abound,
All you can see is the ground,
And nothing above a 12 foot rack!
The forest is on fire,
Definitely not burning with desire,
I'm not sure about the peat
But if you think about the heat
It burns the quagmire
A sorethroat has come knocking,
I wear a striped red stocking
Oh! There goes the wind
The sun saying hi from behind
Adieu! I'm going spelunking
A poem to'commemorate' the arrival of haze on our doorsteps.
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