Vision

not buzzing, not much intonation,

I consider the hive perched on the tree,

and conjecture if I could extract some honey,

to bestow the day with a sweetness,

I can not savor, but discern and concede,

by heeding the clear golden flush,

and the strands as I finger it and above,

those rupturing lines, swirls of purity,

the measures of which I can not fathom,

but I can strive to discern, concede

the marvels of that edifice,

where it is concocted, prepared into

the divine reward of nature, the scents

of which, I gulp in, even if they’re not there,

but I could acquire the traces of familiarity,

which I thought, I had never had,

ah! I sigh… and I depart from the moment,

when I gave a glance, and disregarded,

the vision now glorified into a serene scene,

through the electrons, I am entitled to,

which have altered what took place,

into something, I could only fancy, had

.

This is tagged as the poem for 28 November for NaBloPoMo.

Image source

3 thoughts on “Vision

  1. HA, this wandering poem is filled with appreciation for nature, especially one of her greatest creations: bees. This final lines, about how your presence has a “butterfly effect,” was especially touching. I read this aloud. Twice.

    Thanks, also, for sticking with my blog through my recent depression. Seeing your name in the comments really meant something to me. Amy

    Like

Here is where you tell me something...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s