in the flower’d fields

Curled bumble bee,
be not a husk, cicada spent,
already still.

Dandelion feasts not yet sprung,
blossoms not yet burst.

My hands monstrous
try to cradle you gently,
protect your wings.

I’ve steeped you sugar water,
sweet and warm, maybe
stronger than winter’s touch.

 

Today is another quadrille exercise at dVerse. We are to slip in “steeped” – or a variation of – in a poem consisting of no more and no less than 44 words, excluding the title. I am listening to puppers snore, and checking on a little bee in a box.

22 thoughts on “in the flower’d fields

    1. There’s still movement – I don’t have a lot of hope, but I’m okay with a sweet death rather than a cold one for my little fuzzy friend.

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  1. I love that you address the bee so gently and reverently, Nora, and that you’ve reminded us of what is yet to come in the lines:
    ‘Dandelion feasts not yet sprung,
    blossoms not yet burst’
    and the sugar water ‘ maybe / stronger than winter’s touch’.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Jane. They are, indeed. We have mild winters here, and a lot of urban bee keepers, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bumble bee in January.

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