raptured in bees
that do not sting
flying within their kinetic drone
circumference of apian light
I am nectar in each leg pouch
adorned with bees
that croon green ascension
floating along
honey-gone
dancing over meadow fields
determined to pistils and stamens
consumed by bees
enthralling my journey
bounded in thrum
the yellow blush of fragrant pollen
rush of electricity
firing around me
I am ten thousand hearts
beating as one
honored guest at the feast
I daydream
half asleep
sprawled out in bliss
kissed by the sun
in my back yard
on a hammock
in August.
***
BY NEIL BROSNAN: dreamed tao of bees
