Word bees leave the book hive,
visit the wildflowers of our minds,
touching us with winged brilliance,
their black-gold flight under the sun
-flower flourishing golden in the sky.
Back in the book hive, honeyed words
plan together to pollenate fresh minds.
Then CCD: the book hive library-dead,
dusty the honeycombs, all droning done,
and hollow now their promises, forgotten
the mind-flowers they visited once upon
a time, until ALZ spelled mental CCD and
a solitary bee searching the dark, abandoned
mind for a memory it can no longer find.