Come up the canyon and stretch out under
mock orange and apple blossom humming
with bees. Petalled confetti falls all around us.
Bend under the boughs and draw close to me,
these bees won’t bother us—
they’re only here for the honey.
Bees sweeten a hungry world, ferrying pollen
to coax flowers into fruit. You bow before their fine
attention. My face inclines towards yours.
In each pink cluster, a bee trembles and enters.
We breathe in pollen and apple scent
rocked by the Yes, yes, yes of soft bee thrum.
All these years I’ve begged for change—longing
to be transformed—but now I note the perfect coupling
of antenna to stamen, of mouth to fruit.
Finally, I find a fit that needs no shim.
All along my prayer might have been
sustain me, hold me, carry me home.
