september bee
we sat together but not--
each in our own world,
isolated
by our thoughts,
connected only by proximity,
dreaming,
disjointed,
jolted back to our present only
to swat at a single bee
which, its home invaded,
buzzed threateningly from head to head
vainly attempting to unseat us.
First one
then the next
then someone else
flinched, raised faces, lashed arms, flailed hands,
our efforts no less futile than his,
and I waited for my turn,
watching the others
and the late summer morning--
clouds wisping over the sun,
tiny brown leaves blowing silently
in the newly cut grass,
gentle wind fluttering my skirt,
tossing my hair
over my face,
last warmth of the season
filling my pores--
I waited,
wanting to know it,
to see it on its own terms,
to face it and let it face me
and perhaps find some connection
beyond the fear
of pain and tears
I know
when my own dreams collide
with reality.
I wanted to see its eyes,
to learn its name,
to hear its song not as the sharp
warning buzz alerting me of danger
but as the sweet sound of
autumn flowers gliding quietly in the wind.
I pictured it sitting in the air
before me
staring me down,
confused
by my stillness,
until it could trust me
and spill its secrets.
The others' eyes lowered,
continued in their worlds,
not seeing the tiny leaves
falling from somewhere
discoloring the grass
or the leaves rustling
and shifting in the trees,
their thoughts
echoing only the sounds of distant memory
and the thick scent of the fresh mowing,
and the bee,
which had been flying in the distance,
suddenly was before me
disrupting my silence,
shattering my solitude,
hovering only inches from my eyes.
Instinctively I swatted,
my hand moving without thought
before I could say no,
and the bee left
as it must
and though I hoped it would come again,
desperately wished for another chance,
I knew the result would be the same
the hoped-for communion only a vision
engendered by the warm breeze
and the pungent air--
an opportunity lost
in the drifting clouds
and left behind as we walked away,
leaving the bee its domain again
to itself.
These pages copyright Karen Kopriva 2002;
all rights are reserved