Thursday, July 18, 2013

The semblance of bees

The flickering lights of an august morning. Turquoise spirits rise from the still bog. The first rite of passage for new egos.  
The golden circus passes today. 
The final show will feature a baron and a bee keeper. 

Dictator, fascist, captain and pope. 
The semblance to bees is uncanny.
 That rigorous dance. 
That expectant glance. 
The last song of summer. 
The ode to joy. 
The drum snare on an entire era. 


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