Spring comes. And with it a silent drift of gold. I sing the old John Williamson song about Cootamundra Wattles and take too many photos of their great yellow tassels. I find their echoes later around finger prints on the car. Adrift, adrift. We don’t know what we breathe until it lands on the right surface.
My daughter tells me she saw a cloud of gold hanging in the air. “I think I have hay fever,” she says. Perhaps we both picture the particles. Perhaps we both imagine our noses, internally coated like the back of an industrious bee. And then I’m thinking about bees flying through pollen swarms and, like a computer game, point bubbles pinging off. And then my daughter is sneezing. “Bless you!” I say absentmindedly. She cocks an eyebrow at me and goes back to drawing Osiris in the dirt with a stick.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get home. Surely hay fever gets less irritable inside.” But does it? I wonder as we head for the car.
Under an Italian mountain they’re fishing for dark matter. Invisible things make me think of honey
Written for Mish’s dVerse haibun prompt “Give me Shelter”.
Out of the Cave 
I enjoyed reading this. Loved the interaction between yourself and your daughter. The pollen and the bees. Really lovely to read.
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Thanks, Misky, so much for commenting. Glad you liked it!!! ❤
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I do love the entertaining, inquisitive thoughts and how they wander randomly, while the present scene is maintained throughout. Wonderful visual details.
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Thanks so much Mish! 🙂
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Really? All invisible things?
~David
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The wattle is blooming here too. It looks so wonderful against the dreary skies of these rain filled days but hayfever is a horrible condition.
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Better honey than dark matter. At least honey definitely exists. 🙂
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😃
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