Skunk Mating Season
Lord, you said
love is blind,
but that means
it still smells.
From the back porch
we know that some
are deterred and others
attracted by the pungent
perfume of defense, strength
of this seeking species.
Amorous and aromatic, our
den friends spray before
continuing to their coupling,
safe in their pursuit.
We relax,
noses wrinkled,
judgments withheld.
To each their odor,
or so it goes.
5 thoughts on "Skunk Mating Season"
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Delightful, even if the smell is not.
I love this! Fun and true!
Great metaphor!
Good poem. Very concise and whimsical.
So much fun!