A SPOONFUL OF SUGAR

With bees


it's all about heat.


Hard to find ourselves


in a damp autumn dawn


now that the circus


has moved on


the worst- 


off cramponned


to a vertiginous


leaf, wings 
squeezed

to a silver panel


to sop up

what thin warmth


they can 


running


–


on empty.


We can barely buzz


but do


what we can

–
without your teaspoon


of sugar-water –


slowly rocking


our grounded weight


(so mite-laden


we look like strawberries)


from limb to limb,


grieving, really,


the slippage


of the sun. 


–


Which is in


itself to recollect 


our business which is


to be us to agitate


each stiff joint,


gather a quorum and 


shiver together hum


fiercer and groom 


our leavening pelts


as the late rays stoke us,


no surplus


perhaps but enough


to get up and among


the dog-roses


again