SPRING POLLEN

1 1 2 Y S P R I N G P O L L E N J O H N K I N S E L L A ‘‘Thus it seemed that this one hillside illustrated the principle of all the operations of Nature. The Maker of this earth but patented a leaf.’’ – Henry David Thoreau Yellow overwhelms, satiates, blocks out the picture of hillside: leaves wave in mild suns, searching out attention. This is not subjective and would happen if I weren’t there to observe; screenprints of pollen, dusted cu√s come out of black centers, not yellow petals. Su√usion, volatility, risk of drowsing o√ when everything that can, will pounce or crawl over you and either way consume. We wade through senses we can’t name but know are there, bothering blood. Grandparents might say: we feel it in our waters, our noses tingle before the flowering. Holidaying on the coast, we invoke yellow and irritation to make absence better; where land becomes louder and memory clouds with pollen, swaying judgments, wresting world to water. ...