Where Honey Comes From

Pit
Pitter pat
Pit
pitter patter pitter
This
This or that
This
this or that or neither
Eyes on the roof
Eyes on the floor
Eyes in and out--all around--except on the door.

Open the door and you will see
Open your eyes and you will believe
Open your heart and you will receive

The wonderful mess of inconsistency which clouds the vanes of straightfor'd reality, leaving us only with what we can be

As we buzz all around in this allergy cloud,
Kicking and stirring up bollen of pollen
Scooping up every last one that was fallen,
Til we're drenched in the dust of a fine yellow shroud

That causes a histamine overreaction which comes into conflict with yellow dust fasion, but what else is there to make sure that we fit in?

Seriously.

The cloud rends.
Its grief wells up and whelms o'er,
Cleansing the skies with its self-sacrifice.

And pooling on roofs and seeping through cracks,
The cloud guts will fall til someone reacts
To the pat
Pitter pat
Pat
Pitter patter pitter.