..........
.............The Poetry Of
........................ Al Swanson
....... Clueless Bees
.......
.......
....... Your love struck me
....... as though I had honey
....... deep,
....... set
....... before me
.......
....... with that shimmer
....... ing top that
....... glowed like a layer
....... of sunshine
....... poured,
.......
....... a mini pool
....... of sun
....... swishing
....... slowly-
....... a glass
.......
....... ripened.
.......
....... Constructed by
....... tiny flying insects that knew
....... the trade secret of how
....... to do this.
.......
....... Tasting
....... sweetness,
....... surprised
....... at the sharpness
....... of the pleasure
....... I watch,
.......
....... to notice
....... a bee
....... on the sill
....... seeing me
....... who Pretends
....... he is clueless
....... to what I am
....... doing.
.......
.......
.......
.......
.......
....... Turning The Crank
.......
.......
....... Life is strange with
....... the soul reaching out
....... as if to touch
....... in ways I don’t know
.......
.......
....... As I drive sometimes
....... in the car
....... I feel my soul at work
.......
.......
....... I can feel its tensions
....... and its arms
....... how it is turning
....... this or that crank
.......
.......
.......
.......
.......
....... Cobblestone
.......
.......
....... The tokens
....... I splashed
....... in the puddle,
....... drifted,
....... in solitude;
....... out of sight
....... in the rain,
....... that poured so
....... hard that noon.
.......
....... I looked about
....... to see
....... none
....... but me
....... there.
.......
....... Sidewalks bare
....... cobblestone,
....... my feet wet
....... only hills
....... to climb
....... on my
....... way
....... home.
.......
.......
.......
.......
