Your unwieldy body does not hold you back nor drive you into the shadows. Buzzing from one white globe to another, bending thin stems this way and that you bumble on, singing your soft song in the spring light, while birds trill in the trees. Your short life unburdened by worry or fretfulness, sweet nectar is your one pursuit. So my own modest cravings will be to me a delight, no sorrow for my frailties; only joy for sweet hours amid sunshine and clover.
Sherry Poff writes in and around Ooltewah, Tennessee. She holds an M.A. in writing from The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga and is a member of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. Her work has appeared recently in Mildred Haun Review, Artemis Journal, and Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel.