The Bee and Me

the bee and me work side by side;
it darts above, navigates the rhody blooms
while I work beneath it close to earth

buzzy, busy already this drab morning,
it knows I want nothing from it, working
like a zen master well-focused on its need

weeds and grass tangle happily,
thick and conspiratorial;
healthy from my long absence
they need far less than I do;
a little dirt, sun, and rain

I hack until my palms ache,
today's destroyer

for years I have dreamt of
beds of wildflowers or vegetables;
every year, I am reaquainted
with last year's plans -
messy beds stuck at my intentions

the worms have been busy;
today's bounty yields two
three-inch screws, a small brick,
larvae of some unknown species,
glossy as a brown, polished stone

I am reminded of my own
inner workings; big things
buried, internal bricks unearthed

near my ear the bee hums
a happy whisper;
the brick a gift,
small and sturdy

a reminder of my
perseverance