Cutpurse Flight

Each in bird a hive to grow,
to tell of quiets lest profound,
to make the bee-buzz brim,
                                             that,
waft-like swoon of beak to bulb, a brief repast,
in ground, inside; an inescapable palette
                                             that,
even as the white bloom of flies
in saffron beds, be bold be, of the bee
                                             dear bird,
you swivel, darling, there above the yew;
in a field that swells with the burst of grain,
dipped and then green after a week of un-taste.
                    We bow,
                                we bow,
                                             below we bow –
blest be you for cutpurse flight.

© Eve Redwater 2012


                                                                                                    
[Posted for DVersepoets “Poetics: New view for you”, where we were tasked to write a poem from a pool of beautiful photographs by Tracey Grumbach. I hope you enjoy my contribution today!]

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