An Awakened Winter Bee

She started with a smile, speaking of her past

And all the flyers that she has ever met

And all that have left.

 

What then do I offer her?

Stillness in the air, running out of space,

She says, “I like your curls.

 

Would you like a drink?” I ask for tea, but, thinking

I have to fly lower, I start to sink.

She gets closer to me

 

And say’s “do you want me?”

How do I answer her warmth and body

Pressing tighter, offering her my wings,

 

Lips tender, and hands

Pushing mine over her hips

With familiar intimacy?

 

I smile looking back at my past

Flying, landing

In the arms of a spring flower;

 

Like an awakened winter bee.