Poetry buzz


A bumblebee lands upside down in my pool.
He works vigorously at a backstroke, motoring in small circles.
He flew in to drink hot pink but is drowning in cold blue.
Perhaps he arrived at this difficult point in his life accidentally.
Or maybe he made several errors in judgment.
Does he feel trapped? Does he think he’s floating, or flying?
In one way, it looks like a struggle.
In another, a joyous swim.
Like a turtle, he can’t turn over, but he won't give up.
Spiky black legs windmill in the air.
Heart and nerves panic.
His struggle to live kicks hectic ripples across the sunlit water.
Underneath, huge shadow rings pulse against the pool floor.
You can only see them in the right light, and only if you’re looking.
The effort is futile.
He will die trying.
For now, he survives on hope and surface tension.

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