Thursday, 06 June 2013 00:00
In full blossom.
Light fills the air with its song,
whether we hear its notes or not.
And we learn its scent
by memory, rustling
the green leaves and the petals
that flutter and fall like snow,
ever so lightly to the ground.
And ever so lightly
the bees beat their wings
and pause to skim their delicate nectar,
and swarm and sample, rise
and slip below the blossoms.
I hear them putter, and hold their song
my song, daughters of the sun
and the moon, both.
As I fluttered along the path
of Spring’s delicate web,
and skim of its stream
full of blossom and butterfly,
and sample an intricate part of its motion
I finished an honest draft of a poem.