Tuesday, August 14, 2007


I crave the touch of the rose
as the dry wood craves flame.
How else can wood dance?

I watch the bees dance
pointing the way to the rose.
Bees, yellow as flame

black as smoke from flame.
They understand that the dance
is the only way to the rose

and like dancing flames, they rise.

1 comment:

Crafty Green Poet said...

excellent, bees' secret dance is the way to the honey