summer drips off walls and
coats black roads
we are melting into tomorrow
today was nailed and hammered by a carpenter with
a golden voice
It’s blurry, but I see it
people have lost livers and kidneys
and legs
and pets
and children
and I am sad for them, I am
from under a rock
from the depths of the Pacific
from unknown planets
where I am carried by a carpenter and His golden voice
Swarming in with poisoned tips tucked
under innocence,
Nature’s vengeance dancing from
flower to flower,
no matter the color,
or the size,
or shape.
They are the thieves of each unique
fragrance,
and I wonder,
Do they watch for the tulip to open toward the warmth of the sun?
Do they wait for a rose to display her heart proudly?
Do they time each moment precisely
for attack?
The light of the sun is unconditional;
food for the flowers,
heat for the thieves,
and on those magical days,
when I am the Bells of Ireland,
exposed,
hungry for the warmth of my Sun,
they swarm in and attack!
maggiemaeijustsaythis 