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I am but the flower
nigh the wild fox's den
I feel earthen worms
that crawl about
my sultry toes and then

they move the dirt for me
relaxing me
I stand *****
in wait for thee

I watch the *****
nurse her pups
and though she has quenched
my love before
I desire a name and
something more

I so desire the honey bee
without her I feel untended
much unlike the tended progeny
of neighbor mother mending me

though standing guard
I wait for thee
to call my name
and fall on me

to drone a tune
and dance on me
and rob of me
the toil of seed

for a wildflower
by another name
should thenceforth
be deemed
a ****

'til the
nomen
falls atop
mine pate as
favor of the
honeybee.