a honey bee stung me
not because I disturbed the remnants of his hive
or stepped on the flower he sat upon
I watched puzzled as he struggled on the ground
after burying his sword in my arm
thus sacrificing himself
in honor of his brothers and his queen
you see
he was the last
he had no voice to tell me of their fate
the destruction we'd wrought
on this docile creature
this creator of sweet nectar

the sting was brief and I brushed it away
and continued on
as we all do when only temporarily impeded
unaware
the sting about to come

they accumulate
like snowflakes on a limb
and then they are gone
like raindrops on your skin
taken by the Sun
and when the dry spells come
I hold onto them
these memories
perhaps long forgotten
by those who shared in them
and those already silent
they drift downstream and out of site
to return upon my final night
and beginning with the first clear light of youth
all but a whisper
....is life

I drove past the tree
that saved me many times
when I was so young
it reached it's limbs and called me in
and I would wile away the hours
watching the world move below
blind to my hiding place
I held tight as the cruel older kids
walked by
looking for me to belittle and abuse

my friend has withered in the waning years
his bold trunk now dry and hunched
his strong broad reaching arms now drooped
by his side
I'm not sure on which limb I carved my initials
or what side I buried those baseball cards
in a sandwich bag and my Dad's cigar box
he got me through those early years
my sanctuary
my protector
I catch a final glimpse in the rear view
I have to smile as it looks as if his top limb waves to me
but I know it's just the breeze

we were leaving after all these years
the place where I was born
the only walls, alleys and rooftops I have come to know
I counted down the days with sorrow and fear
not sure what to say to my friends
the only friends I've known
like brothers we were

on the last day I wrote a note
and folded it
stuck it in a tight gap under the porch
where the wood had warped
it doesn't matter what it said
just that I was leaving a piece of me here
a piece that may never be found again

...a graveyard of all things
across the street of this house I've rented on the beach
a family plot on the opposite end of an empty 3 or 4 acres
this wasn't in the description
but I find nothing more comforting than a few dozen resting souls
nearby
while I too rest
I awoke the first morning to a sigh and then another
as clear as if she were laying beside me
and later that day...near dusk
I paid a visit where she rest
and returned with the sounds and images of my new friends
the Austins, the Stowes, the Farrows and the Wades
the blackbirds squawked and jumped from tree to tree
they did not approve of my interest
perhaps they are the protectors of these souls
settlers of the Outer Banks