Wednesday, March 14

The Bee

THE BEE
the truth is that a bee flew in my window
and I didn’t notice it for three and a half years
when it began to look so pretty on my curtain,
made noise and gave me cause to recollect
that it’s not the first time I’ve been disappointed
and surely won’t be the last
but it’s a gift of mine: finding something where there’s nothing
it gave no quarter to my stare, little shiny thing
its several legs in unison moving.
what my heart deems lovely my eye makes ugly
and though it buzzed the way it ought
it sought flowers all its own
in gardens where I could never be
--aged augury, soft and watery,
its inability to acknowledge an observer,
a room that had no space for the two of us—
and still, a window I could never open
https://i.pinimg.com/736x/45/6b/20/456b209f9dcce1313c663981254a5d54--bees-insects.jpg


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