A collection of bees

         with apologies to Sylvan Esso

Bumblees flicker through the four o’clocks.

Almost as large as hummingbirds

their ungainly bodies hang from wings

furiously pumping.

Among the cosmos, honeybees drowse

their bodies dense with yellow pollen.

And in the umbels of fennel and dill

tiny native bees dart like the tongues

of snakes     back and forth       around

Summer. The September sun a gold coin

suspended in a peacock blue sky.

Above my head bees make gentle music

High soprano        rumbling bass

the sweet honeyed music of summer.