*

When I arrived at the river this morning

bees were buzzing around datura blossoms

in a dionysian frenzy.

One drunken reveler crawled stupefied to the

petal's edge and just laid there dazed by

the datura's nectar.

*

I, drowsy myself, cannot keep awake

on this intoxicating June day.

Like the drunken bee, I shake my head to stay awake.

Insect and man both part of some vast eternal plan.

The old clock of this sleepy June day is ticking slowly away.

I stretch in the sun by sleep overcome.

*

The sun, a sacred orb in a pale blue sky.

I lie on a riverbank beneath its piecing white eye.

The buzzing of bees lolls me to sleep

and the river rolling by is many fathoms deep.

*