I was almost a bee by the time I was
born under propylene beams I was two
days old by the bee by the bay I was
under moon wood that was why I would
lie in the grasses at sunset was new
& cicadas were still under nights by
the light it was listening mountains
yodelled their blades sharp as I was
travelling backwards was time a part
of a star’s dim arrival it was there
in the way you were walking & it was
almost time to go I was sliding down
the honey hill the future was a tree
we had become a leaf at last a bee

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