Seasons

Every time I think of summer I picture a field of sunflowers.

The way the sun hits the petals

And the bees buzz around looking for just the right pollen.

Being picky like a child who only likes pumpernickel bread

Because of the color.

But bees are more precise about what pollen they like.

They see in more color than the average human

They have a tracking system in place to send them to the right flower.

Like a mouse who knows when to eat the cheese and when to walk away from the

Trap.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Labyrinth

When future knocks on my door, it emphasizing the growth I have taken the staircase that never stop going. Forever growing and in either direction.

Beautiful.

the clouds moving across the pale blue sky, dripping rain down on my patio. My cats sleeping next to each other, butt to butt, when about two years ago they couldn't stand each other. They breathe in

Cold Rush

Time to increase down the aisle. Opening up to something else that I can't see, to feel the assault of love slap me in the face.

©2019 by Chaotically Small Poetry. Proudly created with Wix.com