I call the meadow home.
There the bees have seen me present,
have seen me walk
and lie under the sun
along high slopes of green and blue and purple, and yellow, pink, and honey.
I call the meadow home –
the trees, older and grave, have shaded me beneath a solar ray,
amid their twigs and branches and leaves that danced with me
the dance of life –
that's how I know them,
and how they know me.
Photo credit: Niklas Hamann on Unsplash
