Ripe

Drunk with excitement
the black-bellied bee
dips low over the blushing pansies.
Daffodils, those divas in boas and lace,
tease as she makes her dizzying sortie
over and over
circle upon circle
surveying the embarrassment of riches
history suggests may be a mere hallucination
brought on by months of deprivation.
She whings past splitting cherry buds
touching down for a taste.
Nectar ripening far too early
is just as sweet as the aged variety
and just as soothing
on the wing.

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