portion of the artwork for Wulf Losee's poetry

Acacia baileyana
Wulf Losee

I heard the first bees of spring today
they murmured in my acacia tree
sang with a vibration of wings darting
into the exploding flower sprays
delving the contentment of sunlit gold.

It was a day of fast-moving clouds
when the cumuli bloomed in the skies
like orchids floating on the rivers of air
tossed on the streams of wind
as offerings to the Great Emptiness.

In seven days rolling towards an equinox
the acacia tree will discard its blooms
the bees will forget their finding dance.
When its blossoms have fallen from time
branches of light will unwind forever
                 from the acacia’s black seed.

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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 44 | Fall 2014