bubmlebee

Poem May

it’s May

and, yes, my palms

smell of pine

behind my eyes and

throat

breath is prying

trying

to t®ickle

words out

from deep beneath

what comes through is sticky

mucus

coating my eyes

almost gluing them shut

thick hot saltiness oozes out from my nostrils

I saw a dead bubmle bee today

and before that live ones

buzzing around

flower to flower

and a baby

I saw a baby bumble bee

I had never seen a real live

actual

baby bubmle bee      before

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Stakkars lille humla hadde mista en del av vingen og kunne ikke fly. Hjertet mitt bløøør! :’(