Kingsbrae 7.1
7 June 2017


Bees to flowers,
they come to visit,
their sojourns just as brief.

Hummingbirds hovering,
they push pointed noses
here and there.

How much and what
will they understand?

Perhaps they retain
an impression of raindrops
falling, or dust motes rising
to dance in the sunlight.

Maybe my words
will sting like tiny blackfly
and leave small red bites
that will burn with a wild
itch to hear more words.

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