The December Bee

flies around my kitchen
flirts with the heat of the range,
finds neither shrub nor flowering vine:

I knead the bread,
stir the soup,
avoid the brush of his wings,

until my daughter grabs
a cup, napkin,
scoops and seals him,

opens the kitchen door
and releases him

where he abandons warm air,
lights on a boxwood,
sinks into ever shorter days.

By Connie Jordan Green

Connie Jordan Green’s work appears in numerous journals and anthologies. She is the author of two novels for young people; two poetry chapbooks; two poetry collections, Household Inventory, winner of Brick Road Poetry’s 2013 Prize, and most recently, Darwin’s Breath, published by Iris Press. Learn more at: