Flu is such a short word. Flu. Small. Simple.
Influenza sounding more flora. More weighty. Simply more.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been so under the weather. I lost days to it before losing track of what day it was.
The rain timed itself as keenly as it can this time of year.
Which did nothing to mature the palates of my pests from pea shoots and brassicae greens toward henbit or this star-shaped mystery.
Perhaps next year.