Showing posts from November, 2011

Short Bee Poem

September I sit in the kitchen, under a thinning calendar. At this time of year I’m always too tired to write. Outside, the weak, midafternoon sunlight balances on shadow-stilts. A bee – perhaps the last – passes slowly over the dried out honeysuckle; lands. Stumbling from stamen to stamen, it adds, even now, bullion to the panniers strapped to its sides. ©2011 Dan Wyke