"Summertime, and the livin' is easy..."
The early morning marigolds, tall
and wet with dew, bow their large heads
and gently waltz in a light breeze.
Giant zinnias, resplendent in their explosion of colors
shade the basil, parsley and summer squash.
Wearing his yellow and black flight jacket
he passes over the clover and buckwheat
buzzing with honey bees, ground bees, tiny wasps
and hones in on the bright oranges and reds
of the taller flowers.
His hovering wings are like a small fan,
their hum a familiar melody, as he moves
through the marigolds, landing on each flower head
drinking in the sweet rich nectar.
His legs begin to bulge with his pollen purchases,
and now growing heavier he merely kisses
each zinnia, sipping gently.
Sorriso del sole,
higher now in mid-morning sky.
Weighted down with pollen, and drowsy
from the intoxicating nectar, he seeks
the cool shelter of a squash blossom
and walks its tubular shape to its end,
his wings hushed, his eyes heavy.
The blossom is cool and damp, so inviting,
and defying instinct he naps.
He will wait for the cool of the late afternoon
and slowly fly home.
After all it is summertime.
© by†Robert Manchester.
Used with the authorís permission.