The bees
around my head
give me space
to cut spent blooms
away
Away
from time and thought
I take their rhythm for
my own, relax into the buzz
they sing
They sing
of work as sweet,
and timed to ancient clocks;
I may tell time just as bees do
some day
Some day
like an open bloom,
across my honeyed path
sweeter secrets may emerge, like
the bees
By Diane Elayne Dees
Diane Elayne Dees has two poetry chapbooks, I Can’t Recall Exactly When I Died and Coronary Truth, forthcoming. Diane also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog that delivers news and commentary on women’s professional tennis. Her author site is Diane Elayne Dees: Poet and Writer-at-Large. See more of Diane’s work here: https://womenwhoserve.blogspot.com https://dianeelaynedeesauthor.blogspot.com