a melody of wings,

coupled in thirds,

as ground bees 

backpedal quartz grains

into the sky.

a liturgy of labor,

this frenzied and furious

resistence to time,

surreal in juxtaposition

with the imperceptible 

rate of blooming, 

that veiled 



what do i find

in my own frame?

a body masks 

fingerling tendrils

that tunnel for truth 

on a return home.

i can only be where i am,

in this thousand 

mile per hour spin.

it is fragrance

which reveals 



Photo: Boneset from my meadow garden where the ground bees nest on the sandy bank.

© M.G. Iannucci 2017

6 thoughts on “Harmonize

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