I spy a marvel of June— a fuzzy
young bumblebee on a bee balm’s
violet head in arabesque stance.
So round, yet she pliés up, spins
and swirls from tip to tip,
her yellow and black standing out
against dozens of purple blossoms
highlighted in June sun rays.
She dips-sips-leaps, dips-sips-leaps more,
before time to carry some
nourishment away— determined,
doing what needs to be done—
as we all do in this short life-dance.