Have you ever seen a honeybee take pollen from a tree?
A delicate dance with vigor.
The weight of the new burden, difficulty of flight
To bring back the prize to the hive.
Have you ever seen a honeybee take pollen from a tree?
A silent observer is me.
A dreamer has left today.
She would look out the window in her forgotten room
Telling me stories in vivid color.
Stories of a home on a hill, a stream through the trees,
A small bridge over the stream.
"Would you walk along the stream and over the bridge?", I would ask
"Yes, we used to walk down to the stream and watch the birds, sometimes they would play in the water".
The trees through the window are old.
Their greatness still exists, the girth of their trunk
"They've been there for years", she said.
I could see the house on the hill, I could see the stream, the birds and of course the grandness of the trees.
"I'd love to go there someday", I said.
"It's very far. I think the children have school today", she whispered.
"Maybe someday".
She smiled.
Goodbye my friend.
The duet begins the song
The melodic timbre echoes
Rhythmic, a random circular movement
The small becomes large.
An elegant dance in the air
Arguments ends the phrase,
The soloist returns.
A new song.
Poison has a sound.
A rhythmic sequence.
Slow. Dim. Dull.
The shaking hand becomes steady.
What once was.
Gone.
Quietly she sits,
Unmoving.
A statue in the tree.
He watches her
A glistening eye
In a moment she is gone.
The room is dark
The words fall to the floor
Shattered pieces of yesterday
Breath is voluntary
A shaking hand bears the weight of the pen
Black ink carves the edge of the paper
Eyes that were once open now close
The leader speaks
The followers movement seemingly random, melodic.
They push downward
The air is the oppressor
They emerge.
The leader becomes the follower.
The pieces are thin, but the blade has dulled
They break and fall helplessly to the floor
An exhale of breath, frustration
A distant sound seems louder now
The hand rests.
Night.
The sun has shut its eye
A question abruptly breaks the silence
The crowd responds.
A seemingly random melody
They continue their argument long after I leave.
