Here and now, in the Great Pacific Northwest of these Untied States of America, the Sun has passed the Equinox, and life has responded in fulsome abundance. (Yes, yes, I know, I know … Three Word Thursday was yesterday.) It flies through the air with the greatest of ease, the golden pollen on the warming spring breeze …

She: “Honey! Make the itch go away!”

He: “No, dear, I’m not about to get your eyes memberships at the health club.”

She: “The health club?”

He: “Look, honey, do you really want to know how heavy your eyes are? Even after they’ve worked out?”

She: “They’re not working out for me right now! They don’t need exercise, they need a priest!”

He: “You got your eyes from Toyota? So that’s how come they need to be recalled.”

She: “Do you recall the meaning of the word ‘sympathy’?”

He: “But, dear, you’re surrounded by it. What more do you need than the symphony of the trees?”

She: “Not symphony, sympathy. And if the trees had any, they’d stop with the pollen drop already and give me back my face!“