The bees don’t mind

The bees don’t mind my being here,
they hum around my hands and move
so calmly, patient, hovering near
their flowers with their special love,

ignoring me deadheading blooms,
with purpose they each bow, then turn
as servants move from room to room,
or altar boys with incensed urns.

We both perform our sacred tasks,
the gestures of our separate prayers,
each trusting each, and no bee asks
me of my thoughts nor I of theirs.

We never question how or why
each has their own peculiar grace;
each has their way to beautify
our little corner of this place.

We know there is a mystery
we both belong to, they and me,
not grasped by either me nor bee,
but, grasping us, makes us this “we.”

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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