©Shers Gallagher 2012
I saw a bee buzz out the open window,
drunk on dandelion vines.
I opened the framed glass further
to feel the warm air retch in, dull and slack.
It soothed me all the same,
me and my present body of bony bones.
I heard the grass move beyond the sill.
It was scratching itself like a half dozen cicadas.
Stacks of reedy timber they were,
parched and brittle in the soft, infrequent breeze.
I am of a temperate nature, seeking neither hot nor cold.
I seek the balm of Gilead and thirst for the waters of Sharon.
But today I only bask in my consumption
of the slowly rising heat of the setting sun.
[N.B. Image altered slightly to better fit theme]