Sitting Cross-legged in My Garden at Sunset

Only the bee

labors past the light,

making work

of the black-eyed susan

and faded dahlia.

Like a prison chaplain,

in love with beauty and death,

it salutes the solitary blooms

and ushers each flower

into darkness.

Against my body,

I feel the warm earth

and the tiny necrotic creatures

coming up.

Here amid the lovely dying world

I put down my roots.


 — AE Hines

Originally published in Claudius Speaks,  Issue 3, May 14, 2017. 


© 2017 by AE Hines.  All Rights Reserved.  

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