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
The haze arrived some time ago (I can't remember when exactly), but I was thinking this morning about how the blurry skyline looks like there is a mist shrouded in mystery until it assaults your nose from all directions.
I wrote the 'poetry' waaaay back in 2006. Some things are just there for rhyming purposes.
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