She works bare-armed
among the hives,
Red-gold hair loose
against the wind,
Bees dance upon her
arms
Amidst burning rose and
lavender,
Purple, silver, pink
and indigo,
Forever out of reach.
It is a small space,
This yard behind her
house,
Where you stand within
the shadows,
Hiding from the sun
Where she basks
un-stung,
Summer winds,
unreachable.
Bee-wings glitter
'round her face,
Queens rest quietly in
her hands,
As she whispers each
secret name-
Only the edges of which
you catch,
Where you stand silent,
barely seen
Untouched among the
shadows.
Honey and lavender,
scarlet-rose and amber,
This place is of the
sun, flaming June,
But not the blowsy
heavy woman
In the painting from
your childhood
She is a fragile
hummingbird,
Flashing always out of
reach.
Bees swirl up around
her,
Their long drawn-out
droning hymn
Cradling her in song,
She does not see you
where you stand-
Forget this morning's
shared cup of tea;
These flocks and herds
are hers alone.
Blinded now by red sun
shadows
You turn back into her
darkened room
To the bed you
sometimes share.
You memorize her
lingering scent,
Knowing outside her
window is reality-
While inside you are
illusion.