For us, all that’s left
is a dried bee, tilted
onto one wing.
Not long ago, a bloom
fastened its tongue, while its belly
tried unsuccessfully
to tip it backwards.
We mustn’t touch
anything without water
is without give.
This bee is our scout
one day, dust
will pronounce itself
in the armatures
of every flower.
But we’ll not be closer.
That is the best post in Steemit.. now I vote for you.. nice? :)
@originalworks