this poem is a flower / you are a flower
you are water / this poem is water
this poem is a bee / you are a bee
the more you tend them / the more they tend you

the birds
know me
as one of their own

this has taken much time
and
no time at all

they flit about me with ease and abundance
showing off their gifts
too proud to be humbled

oh to be a bird
a joy
it is
when those times
arrive

—seventeen september twothousandzerohundredstwentyfive