The air I breathe carries flower fragrance
apple, cherry, plum and blackberry blooms
Warm winds waft and wander from east to west
So sweet one would think life creates honey
But the honey wagon isn't on time
the air is heavy with other syrups
Acrid tannic latrine pungent privy
Outhouse odors burn my olfactory
The stench soaks in my nasal cilia
eyes well and water as though smoke-smothered
One must call again and plead, "Please Come now!"
"End the suffering, Bring the pump truck 'round."