January Skies

"My" bees took wing in mid-afternoon sun. This is quiet proof of their existence, a celebration that they lived through the freeze. The ceremony is lost on them. From the outside looking in, their living or dying is mine alone to ponder, letting go the temptation of taking full responsibility. I am only a worker bee myself.

The air, the water, the earth is One hive above and below me that I may witness what flies beneath the sun as some part of who I am.