Bee Dance

I wish I could speak Bee,

The dance,

The wriggle,

The hum.

Because he’s speaking to me

Spinning,

Walking,

Talking.

But then he’s falling on his back,

Calling,

Screaming,

Dying.

His leg-sacs are full of pollen,

Bursting,

Overflowing,

Life-giving.

He wants to show us the source,

With a dance,

A wriggle,

A hum.

But there’s only me watching,

His call,

His cry.

His…

Oh,

Wait…

He’s gone!

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11 thoughts on “Bee Dance

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