Genes

Genes

There are instructions

in the pattern that connects,
one generation to the next,

the hive awakens
in the spring,
knowing the queen bee.

The blade drops
from the highest tree,

carrying tomorrow
on the breeze,
while the baby birds chirp
for the worm
that wishes

it didn’t rain last night,
flooding and separating
him from her,
buried deep and safe
by now,
yet he braces
for his destiny,

“better to fly than swim,”
he might think,   
as the mother bird
simply follows

those instructions.