Rustling leaves along the smooth red fade of pyracantha
Hummingbirds hover gracefully over trees
Fast wings will fly away with my mind chanting mantras
But the melody of my words are lost in bees
Pollen to which I’m allergic they gather and bring to me
Mistaken because I am no queen, I sneeze
No peasant, no person, no love to which I’m chosen to be
Just living on the surface, drifting with the breeze
Peace, love and knowledge gently floating on the sea
Under the sun I am who fell off, so I am what… Leaves?
Hoping to pass on what I have, I let go of my seeds.
© The Sad Owl