rises small but sound,
devoid of leaves,
yet not of color
From my grungy window
I spy sunny blue
glistening my lonely tree
Outside I run, beautiful abandon
of old and smoke
Summer day into night
thread in hand I wait
not so patiently for my
winged friends,
at the tree of love where
green and purple hard shells rest
Quietly approaching so
as not to frighten,
carefully I tie to the
jagged mini-blade leg
Around we spin
my friend and I
buzzing and telling of secrets
and fears
Baleful abandoned,
beauty embraced,
twirling and telling,
I am my June bug
My June bug is me
No comments:
Post a Comment