the bees, too, prefer the drunken aroma of springtime citrus
orange, lemon, grapefruit
they, too, get drunk on the delicate white kisses,
blooms unfolding in the evening air
please, God, You know where my heart is
reveal my heart to me
I have been Tipsy
waltzing with my Father
hoping the current will pull me out a little farther
God gave them autopilot for evenings like this
(slow setting sun lush and almost shiftless)
their wings beat mechanical as the scent intoxicates
(belle notte)
they browse halflight drowsy
but, God, You know where my heart is and
something's buzzing below my collar bone
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