the world-wide worker bees in their midnight's sun
droned on but underneath their droning
how could they not dream of flowers.
and it was summer and the gold medallion swung
between star and star in broad daylight
and in the open air
they floated from fragrance to fragrance
under no one's scrutiny.
no one can deny this happened once.
and in an age where fairytales were dimly sketched
on the rose quelled tabula rasa of the laboring children
it was something to know
this could happen again
and to you
mary angela douglas 25 september 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment