A bee in every blossom

A bee in every blossom
Sluggish in the strange October warmth
They want to be done
Just as much as they need to keep gathering
Bright pollen clinging to their legs


Though not yet showing signs of approach
The winter will come
Stealing the heat from the sun
From their hive
From the delicate fuzz
Of their impossibly round bodies and
Delicately veined wings


It will cling icily to bare trees
Brown grass
The edges of everything


I watch them now
The bees
Tasting the salt of wasted months
Trailing down my cheeks
Mourning a summer that wasn’t
Feeling a cold that isn’t yet here
Letting go of the hopes I held
Foolishly clutched to my chest
Giving them to the wind
Like milkweed feathers
Leaving me a curled husk
My bared insides pale