Stray cats, clocks and bees

short poems

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I am a stray cat.

A lone creature scurrying for scraps

Of knowledge in life’s back alleys.

Midnight choruses with kindred souls

Fill the cold night with songs of restlessness.

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Life is a stand up clock –
Where spring like emotions force
the gears upon gears
Of the human spirit to move in precision.
A strong Oak-like shell stands
hiding the tender energy within.
A face that projects only time.

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Vague silhouettes flash by when I close my eyes…

Quick images in black & White…

Thought race fast…

Flowers burst with color…

The world is alive…

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..

the unbearable lightness of Bee-ing

The bee moves knowingly,
Moving to flower from flower
Zipping through air and environment
Knowing his being
Is that of a bee. .

The bee moves unknowingly,
Trading pollen for nectar
Essence for essence
Essence for flowers
Essence for air Essence environment.

Unknowing of grand the contributing/consuming
Value of the bee.
Unknowing is the bee of the spring gales,
The gale of probability…
The gale of otherwise pleasant rainy days
That both beat down and force up flowering plants,
The gale that blows the bee violently of his course

His essence, his existence
His existence is very light.
His unknowing is very heavy
The unbearable lightness of bee-ing

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