He went about the business of his gathering,

Single-minded in the shining sun,

A focus so intently centered

That I sat me down in grasses near to watch,

Fascinated by the strict attention

He paid to nothing but the work that lay at hand.

His wings, shot through and golden,

With the streaming of the late-day light,

Looked as though some fairy princeling

Might possess them, rather more than he.

But it was that business of his gathering,

So single-minded in the coming dusk

That struck me, holding my attention,

Single-minded, focused on a bee.




Jo Anzalone  Feb. 17, 2007


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