Transformation

There is a theme in life
Of things turning into other things.
A heavy hair curtain hung over a hive
Nothing to distil the darkness
Or pollinate the radiant air outside
Only the wind’s word and the secret buzzing
Of bees, gold – black – gold, moving
Between two worlds, rushing baggage
From here to another realm.
Lines of thought looping through memory,
A gift that imagines its own joy,
A second chance: blue dawn revisited
With silver vision, lumps of pain like wax
In honey comb turned to pure, sweet gold.