Drones
Two bees or not two bees, let say, a pair
of drones in love on their honeymoon
as long as daylight, tell me how you dare
to be so happy while the afternoon
already stretched the elongated shadows
of trees across the gravel dark and wet
from the midmorning rain, the endless meadows
and farther to the twilight which has yet
to step into the breech. Look how the heaven
is getting darker, how the honey herbs
close up to sleep. It’s twenty five to seven
but it is strange: if anything disturbs
you, it’s the hug that seemed to be some meager,
it is the kiss that wasn’t sweet enough.
The drones don’t fear the darkness, they are eager
for night so they could go in the buff.
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