Weeding the garden I found
a newly sprung lettuce head,
near its out-most leaf, crawling,
I met A handsome bumble bee.
look at you, I murmured and bowed
to see his wings rent
so forsaken he seemed to me
a King Lear imperial and abandoned.
I hailed his majestic wings undone
and harked their mournful hum,
extolled his onyx, gold robe and watched
how he staggered and spun
I turned to the weeds again-
There was nothing to be done.