Little Bee

A legato B flat
Floats on wings of lace and silk
That stretch out and glide
Among birds of feathered kind
Who direct their flap to Northern climes.

Curling into a wave
That punctuates hollow air,
B flat’s weightless fabric
Propels her further and further
Across a wintered and fallow land.

She sings to dry and dormant seeds
That awaken to become
Velvety green leaves and rainbow petals.
The mark of her path.
The personality to her song.

Oh world of wonders!
B flat shares in all that changes
As she melts into the whispering breeze
Helping her to fly longer and faster
Across this bountiful earth.

“Time for dinner Little Bee,
The piano must wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Snapping out of flight with the growl
Of a wolf bound to the indoors
She droops her delicate wings
And tucks them gently into her frizzy hair
With the promise that they will live alive again.