POEM: PURPOSE

In the rows of her petals
Little drones take what they need

They cannot discern what will come
After studying an hour or three

They must sit still with her on the hill
Until stillness consumes eternity

They won’t be numb
When their awareness rests in pollen crumbs

How could it be that their purposes
And her’s are now one?

The sweetness passed from their mouth
Coats toast from the oven

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