a descent into poetry insanity |
| when Dad talked about bees, it was in reference to honey or stings or trivia about masses of a hive held within a home's walls. and when he talked about birds, it was the cardinal lighting in brilliant reds on the fence, or a wren peering from a tiny hole inside a saguaro—he saw them identifying them from their calls, where I was blind and clueless. so, when I heard about the birds and the bees, I was unsure of the shape of the metaphor. Prompt ▶︎ |