The Lonely Gifts Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The lonely gifts,
We spring sometime
After April when the rains
Have finished watering, and the sun in
God’s meadows about his knees,
Wakes us up,
The lucky drifters in turns,
Half of us the flower and
Half of us the bee, unaware of
The greater chaos,
We are the beautiful mechanism,
Our frequent pollinations bring us
Together for several days, as stamen
Brush pistils, the men carrying the children
On their legs from lips to lips, as
Early morning thoughts drip the
Dews down her milk-white petals,
Just for a few days,
A full season for the luckiest,
And then to end all too quickly,
As the earth casts her head down,
Causing the leaves to shed the forest’s
Sadness,
So our season ends its bloom,
Our colors go into hibernations
As our gentle gears come to rest,
Bees sleeping forever upon the flowers’
Open mouths….