The Bees Poem by David Brooks

The Bees



I dream of myself
asleep upon a hillside,
those huge black bees – cmrlje –
emerging from the
dark hole of my mouth.
The bees
are groggy
and struggling toward the light
What have they
left in me?
What will they bring
from their slow
groping
over the bright fields?
How will I store it?
How will I take it home?

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David Brooks

David Brooks

Canberra / Australia
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