Here and Now (1982)

It’s fall. The days are getting shorter and cooler. The leaves are turning. It’s one of my favorite seasons (spring is my favorite). I was outside with the dog yesterday early evening waiting for my boyfriend to get home from work. Sitting next to a patch of what is really a weed, with tiny pale lavender flowers. I know the name of the weed, but it’s early Saturday morning and the name is escaping me. The weed, whatever it is, seems to be a favored hangout for a swarm of honeybees. Sophie and I spent a good hour out there, watching the bees do what they do best. Well, I watched, while Sophie’s curiosity would often get the best of her and she would sneak up to a bee or two and attempt to make a new friend. I’m still surprised that she didn’t get stung.

But anyway, it reminded me of a poem I wrote 30 years ago. Figured I would share it:

Here and Now (1982)

to the buzz
of the bee,
As endlessly, he flits
from flower to flower.
the vibrant stripes
of the yellow jacket
as he flies above
a world of red, yellow, and gold.
as a short life draws to a close.
It seems we always
have tomorrow,
but life is done
before we really begin.

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