bubmlebee

Poem May

it’s May

and, yes, my palms

smell of pine

behind my eyes and

throat

breath is prying

trying

to t(r)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! :’(