Issue 8 | Winter 2011

In the Garden

The way the bees
in the lavender are so
intent on nectar that they
don’t notice me: I am
not one of them, I am
not the wind that knocks them
off their flower, slows them
down, and I am not the sun
speeding the flowers
past this bloom.
I am a shadow, a footstep
or two, I am not here
long enough to really matter.


Filed under: Poetry