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The Bee
by
Durlabh Singh
The bee is drunk with honeyed dew
In flowered colours a metallic dance
A hitched stagger in shifting winds
A flutter of smile in all that morass.
Enterprises of hive now gone distant
Structures and stimulations now left behind
The queen and drones wishing gone astray
For a sip of freedom and a new start.
Aromatics grazed in a buzz of curse
A soft cradled sun in a warm burst
Rocking fragrance in the azured skies
In liquefied reflections of droning surge.
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