Thursday, April 27, 2017

the honey bee can't travel

though winter has been ripping
up the book of time
the chapters are repeating
in a chilly pastime

that forbids us release from snow
and manacles the land
with icy chains and clamour
of a secret marauding band

if only spring were rescuing
the stragglers from the past
the geese are saddled with debts
that are collecting fast

the honey bee can't travel
the hive is a paper cup
and the ripped hammock of
the spider forbids him to sup

the silver basket of the river
is sieving out the fish
and the heron perches prayerfully
waiting for the lucky dish

meanwhile inside the tavern
of lost time      there comes an indistinct song
the landscape is greening
and summer is coming along 

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