To lie in bright meadows
The damp bed of early summer grasses
Beneath our backs
Reminding us that there can be
Reality within happiness.
Shading our eyes
To search against the sun
For the larks
Singing in beauty,
Suspended in the liquid skies.
Lazy bees bumble over
The carpet of meadow flowers,
Unperturbed by the human form
In their path.
Heavy with golden pollen,
Accepting of the gifts
That we are so mistrustful of.
So let us lie in bright meadows
And be as a bee.
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