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Humblebee
I wake from a swarming dream to find myself the patron saint of bumblebees.
Genus Bombus: a perfect name for one once thought too ponderous to fly.
She’s roused herself from hibernation and, with the meandering intent of a dirigible, noses the garden for first flowers.
I could hug her furred coat. She won’t sting a human, you know.
Now, groggy on this April morning, she’s trapped herself inside my window
keening a song of distress.
I hear her prayer and set her free.
We all can be a saint for someone.
© Bonnie Demerjian
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| Bonnie Demerjian |


I love this poem!
ReplyDeleteAwwwww, very sweet!
ReplyDelete