Wednesday, August 8, 2012

taking a minute to smell the begonias


The pollen on a bee's wing,
His hum against the pane,
Are hints that Summer thinks of us,
Would woo us back again
To old beliefs we had in dawns,
In sunsets and in dew--
Before this hurry blotted out
The primal me and you.

-Nellie Seelye Evans

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