The bee, still buzzing
in October, around the
white anemone.

Wings like glass panels,
the bumblebee’s devotion —
October coming.

Purple blooms sprouting,
the wild teasel and the bee
meet each other here.

Soft, endless asters,
the bees are mad for them now—
and I’m mad for both.

Soft yellow faces,
the bee and the sunflower
cling to each other.

The sunflowers sing,
faces flocked with bees all day —
the buzz mixes in.

The field is waist deep,
taller than me in some places,
rabbits in darkness.

The summer partners,
the bee and the teasel bring
each other to life.

This field remembers
every full moon this year—
steps of deer through it.