Beside my quiet keys,
honey dissolves in a hot glass.
A sunken treasure
that sinks below the surface
and in a moment
will be lost forever,
but today, I’m free to explore
new garden paths.
To search for pleasure.
I am the bee bound for fresh stamen,
and after a long-steeped winter,
my head bends for the first sip.
My fingers remember
the slip of their favorite pen,
and I am content
to let the flavors of the season
roll across at leisure
while I enjoy the milder weather.
An herbal inspiration.
An aromatic sunset.
A floral flash.
All tiny flecks.
The gold rush of bee to bud.
No sooner is one stamen devoured
then another one pops up.
If one could choose a way to die,
it would have to be with face
in a full cup.
©2023 | K. F. Hartless
Photograph: A bee covered with pollen lands on the blossom of a common mallow in Ludwigsburg, Germany, on June 21, 2023
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