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

Jesus Sits at Baskin-Robbins

Jesus sits on the bench
at Baskin-Robbins,
largely ignored and unseen

motorists hurry through
left-hand turns, then
jockey for the fastest lane

unphased, he barely blinks
and writes for hours
on the seat beside him

all the big secrets
men and women die for
disappear into the wood

he, more than anyone,
knows he could set himself
on fire and draw a crowd
but I sense he doesn't have it in him;
sick of being our rebound lover

we don't want him, but no one else can have him
(unless it's late at night and we need someone to talk to)

i smile and nod at the space beside him;
he smiles back and his eyes thank me

it feels good to be nice to Jesus
even if he's just another man sitting on a corner

I Am Three

I go back farther
than stories my father’s
uncle told around the fire

short-sighted, a brass of sorrow
rubbed until it shone
like something resembling glory

I am more than a tenor’s voice,
lace curtains, and too much drink

my ferocity lies in wait;
rooted in sticky mud
like the tribes before me,
I have moved tenacious and
sure-footed, guided by a path
remembered and relevant

again and again I see eyes
I recognize, like wells of ancients -
it draws and frightens me

I gather my stones
twenty years later,
still trusting light

I am three, seeking union