Bee Fever

Maureen Donatelli's most recent poem to appear here was My Cat (August 2011).

Bee Fever
By Maureen Donatelli

Snow and sleeping, cold floors,
things of winter hidden, shapes
without names sullen in weak light, waiting

for a tongue to pick them up,
take them home to thaw,
melt blue into a white page

where bee fever rises,
a fever difficult
to describe, but to say

it describes love
is easiest, so I leave them,
then, in a field
of yellow flowers, bright

under the full risen summer sun.
They say the word forever, ancient prayer.

 

What did you think of this article?




Trackbacks
  • No trackbacks exist for this post.
Comments
  • No comments exist for this post.
Leave a comment

Submitted comments are subject to moderation before being displayed.

 Name

 Email (will not be published)

 Website

Your comment is 0 characters limited to 3000 characters.