Saturday, March 7, 2009

The Bee


Like trains of
cars on tracks
of plush
I hear the
level bee:
A jar across
the flowers
goes,
Their velvet
masonry

Withstands
until the
sweet assault
Their chivalry
consumes,
While he,
victorious,
tilts away
to Vanquish
other blooms.

His feet are
shod with
gauze,
His helmet is
of gold;
His breast, a
single onyx
With
chrysoprase,
inlaid.

His labor is a
chant,
His idleness a
tune;
Oh, for a bee's
experience
Of clovers and
of noon!

- Emily Dickinson

3 comments:

  1. Oh my, a girl after my own heart. Guess I'm gonna have to bookmark this one. Your story about meeting Tara at the party is what we call "synchronicity." Once you've been on the path to good-lifeitude a while longer, things like this will happen to you all of the time, only now, you'll be expecting them, and won't let them get away from you! Seeing the beans in your photo reminded me of the Romano beans I planted last fall. When I finally managed to harvest enough for a meal...well, I couldn't have been happier if I were holding a fist full of diamonds!

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  2. Oops, one more question for you. I am also on blogspot - just your basic free template sort - and am dying for a nice header. How did you manage to get the nice picture with lettering over it at the top of your blog? (can you tell I am technology-challenged?) Do you need to upgrade for that?

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