I pluck a shiny leaf or two beneath a shady tree
I cross over to the next flower
Human bee-ing; pollinating breed
These are tiny, red and fickle-stemmed
But that nectar, sweet and sour
And by the time plucked-stem-hits-tongue,
I’ve moved on to another bower
This one curls in a tight corner before
shooting towards the sky
And the hedges that surround it
Make good shelter by and by
Here, the sun can wane in full
Leaving Breeze to tempt night fires
And soon the moon is high above
The crickets chirp, ladybirds retire
And just when I rise, sated by these hours
Here comes the Queen of the Night, a scent that overpowers