Paths*

The measure of the distance between a sunflower's petals
To the hive is written in the spin of a a bee's dance.

He has seen the dance and now searches
With finding the combs of sweetness.

It is a journey between realms, the distance between where he is
And where she resides is a pilgrimmage
Into forests and foliage unfamiliar and confusing.

He is timid about the sarabandes in his chest.

She darts boldly between trunks of arboreal giants.
A faerie she might me, her image is more a feeling,
Her form often escapes depiction.

It is more important that she trashes the air
In an equine manner that he might expect.

Unlikely but precious behavior for a whistling firefly
Carefree as an eagle feather floating beneath a verdant canopy

In another incarnation, they must have patterned each other’s courses.
Such unlikely crossing of paths don't happen in random.

*(Originally posted as prose in 2005)