Home At Last
He stares at them for hours, transfixed,
watching the midsummer bees come and go
from their hidden hive. He wonders if they
ever stop to take a breath, dig the green,
watch the others come and go.
He remembers when his plate
was full, his agenda filled with
nothing of interest,
nothing but blather and busy-ness
and never a moment to breathe.
He regrets that he’d almost forgotten
about the benefits of sunlit bee-gazing;
regrets that he’d almost forgotten
But none of that matters anymore.
Now, all he ever has to do is
to sit on his morning porch,
sip his silent coffee,
enjoy the hive.
Poets And Storytellers United
Writers’ Pantry #79