I caught a bee to make not honey for my honey but to make my honey happy. Trapped mid-flight from a farm of lavender amidst the purple bulbs.
A giant worker bee large and hairy as they come. I couldn’t remember yellow but I remember brown. I remember black. And to my ears the incessant buzzing was caution voiced.
— I did not —
I caught a bee to make happy my honey. My honey man in his flannel shirt and white hat.
L’abeille, pas pour le miel mais pour pardonner hier quand je n’ai eu pas un trace du fier quand je lui ai promis tout quand pour lui j’ai cree un jour.
Sweeter it would have been to have sought honey for honey’s sake. For its golden glow for its empty tomorrow for its free-flow delayed sorrow.
And to my ears the incessant buzzing was caution voiced. Did I listen?