The smell of a skunk
Stirred me from a
Somber slumber
In the silence
Of a springtime eve
Its stealth was betrayed
By the stench of
A scent-sack stream
Somewhere wafting
on the windless breeze
I sat up with
A start, are my
Poor pet dogs
Part of yonder
Fetid fog?
My sentries soundly
Sleeping, keen nasal
Senses did not spur
Canine defenses as I
Had fearfully foreseen
So I walked back
Shut the window
Safe now from a
Second salvo from a
Spewing spiteful spasm
Spurting spleen
Gouda Moon
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/air-assault/
