I watched a bee on lavender
One morning in July
She focused on the scent of sweet
That laced a trembling sky
Her legs were deft and nimble
Whilst strong wings defied her weight
She carried as she tarried
Never questioning her fate
She crawled, she combed
She hovered, dove
Whilst drowsily in drone
She cared not where the nectar went
The moment, hers alone
She practised her detachment
Moving on to different centres
Leaving more behind for others
With the sunshine as her mentor
And did she take…….or did she give?
Perhaps the truth, is both
Bound neither by her hope nor fear
Pure instinct was her oath
I wrote this this morning. I’d had a largely restless night wrestling with the usual toils a human grapples with and writing some seriously bleak 3am shit, channelling my inner Morrisey (first line ‘clarity is torture, illumination cruel’ - go figure!).
I glanced out of my window 7.30ish, as I made my morning coffee, and saw a plump bumble bee navigating the spikes of the lavender, a fat lil humbug in nature’s sweet shop. It was calming, grounding presence and steadied me somewhat. I hope my poem brings you the same brief comfort.
I went outside to get a picture of said bee but of course, she had gone. After waiting barefoot on the uncomfortable gravel for five minutes, waiting for her to return, I gave up ……….but just went outside and yay - my striped girl was back!
Hope you enjoy the audio of this too. It’s me reading it instead of the loathsome bot.
PS: ❤️Thanks for reading❤️ If you are new, feel free to subscribe but know that this Substack is nicheless, I write according to mood. Have a read through the archives first to make sure it’s for you.
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