in which a bee pauses

The midday sun breaks records

again. And all sinks into quiet

on such a day when clouds

pretend there could be rain.

Even the bird bath sits empty,

currawong hiding in the cypress

trees, lorikeets crouched under

umbrella leaves. But there,

pausing on a terracotta ledge,

a bee drinks as if its light fragility

hovers on the edge of life

 

Copyrighted by the author

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