Some Bees

I don’t know what bees
See in our chlorine—
Maybe the sky or the light breeze—
But once on it, god in his machine

Can’t save them from
Themselves. Idly, unplanned,
They stagger back dumbly
Towards the blue, no matter that a hand

Just saved them from the drop.
They’d get a clue, you’d think,
But nothing clever makes them stop.
I, however, get the point they tease

About the ache of too much sun:
Dona eis requiem—give us peace
From the world’s unfathomable glimmer,
Lest we wake up in the skimmer.

November 28th, 2020
Kaiholu