The morning yawns awake
its amber brilliance revives me.
String me up with the sun
I want to peek at the world through the oaks.
I’m weary of this limited view
ground zero with the lilacs.
The sky is the audience
of the dark bumblebee’s dance
navigating virgin blossoms
yet missing out on the bruising intimacy
of bee’s sticky feet
and the swooning perfume of pollination.
From afar it only seems romantic.