What did you say to me?
How did you say to be?
Scent of the flowers sweet,
I fell off the path; the beat.
Metamorphoses buzzing creep.

Bumblebee, Bumblebee

Nectar pollen and wiggle-dance,
Tear off the shirt and pants,
Without it I’m incomplete,
Rotting in self-defeat,
Awashed in a wild sea,

Bumblebee, Bumblebee

Buzzin’ so high and flyin’
Honeycomb drunken Mayan,
Falling west, rising east,
The party will not surcease,
While I am the Bumble-beast!

Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee

The flight it takes off and from,
As flowers of life become,
Praying up to the Sun,
What am I imagining?  (image-gen-nun)
August vino de lum

Bumblebee, Bumblebee
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee

Umi the bumblebee flies sometimes against a tree
You might not see but you are great
So keep your head high my mate

Umi the bumblebee buzzes around full of glee,
Don't worry I will not sting
I am just being fluffy
Though this bee might also be very cuddly
And mostly silly

Umi the bumblebee likes to see people happy
Full of light she flies under the sun,
Buzzing a song and having fun
From flower to flower, each a delight,
Forming a beautiful field, a wonderous sight
Please don't sneeze while I pollinate
Such would be very great !

Umi the bumblebee buzzes around and hits a tree
This is it she can't do more
Now she is sleepy and goes to bed
Till the red of the dawn awakens her and she once again lifts up her head!

~ Umi

Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
give me flowers, give me trees
give me a little lovely tease

Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
love me a little, love me a lot
give me a kiss right on the spot

Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
for you are what makes me smile
for a million times a mile

The song birds call to me
To go and catch the bumblebee.
For she is loving,
She is kind,
She is the one who speaks her mind.
She is funny,
She is smart,
She sees life through her heart.
The bumblebee has no need to act cool,
Because her beauty and heart make me her fool

Like a bumblebee
She dreams of nature
Of fields full of flowers
Of life trickling sweetness

She’ll travel the world
With buzzing excitement
With gold dripping wings
And a love hungry soul

She’ll go with the winds
Dance her way over mountains
Scoping lands for enchantment
Moving hearts with her spirit

And like a bumblebee
She finds peace in the journey
In flying passion painted miles
But never forgetting her way home

Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities

A brown thin thorn
As sharp as a knife
That hurt everything its comes into contact with
But seems to beg for forgiveness from its victims

A rose with petals so bright
Shining their color into the world
That screams for attention
Yet seems to hide from plain sight

A long thin stem
As weak as a piece of paper
That somehow holds up the great rose
But seems to strengthen with each wind blow

A bright green fuzzy leaf
Feeble and soft
That cries for attention from the rose
Yet seems to fade into the background

A single flower root
Dark Brown and thin as a piece of string
That reaches into the earth grasping for a stronghold
Yet seems to fail in comparison to the large, strong roots

A yellow and black bumblebee buzzing along
Happy-go-lucky and unaware of the looming storm
That longs to pollenate the rose
Yet seems to die more with each passing moment

Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities
Yet grave differences

Dancing the billow in the sea
the cool one will show up
in no time with love.
Deep down from the deep
with the flute on the lips.

Listen to the flute!
The chorus clouds bang out
floating by the river blue,
singing down the sky as they move.

Popping out of the secret valley
the sun branches in
ambling with the wonder light
as if the punter sun knew it,
knows the flutist's arty
rise from down the sea!

Every planet is a flying bee
twirling around the inner music
nothing ever stops in the solar disc.

The waning and waxing Moon
in silhouette and in the half-light
swings over the sea full of life.

It all starts from the ground;
it was from our sea waterfront
Him the creative sweetheart in the midst
floated the leading light the bumblebee.
All the stars bubble in the galaxy
they know this ancient story!

Since then the brightest bulb
the sun in the solar ring  
leads the bunch’s mindful
butterfly dance on the way home.
Following the enduring haunting melody
of the pre-design command ‘Qun’ be!

a happy little bumblebee, flew smiling to and fro
the gardener who never quit, he made the flowers grow
his work impressed his happiness, the harder that he tried
he was the best until one day, he stung a squirrel and died

In the dazzling sun
The delicate scent of a jasmine
Bewilders bumblebee.

Looking back at photos of Christmases past.
An action shot of my youngest boy,
testing out his new hula hoop.

I can see my mother’s feet.
She’s sitting in her chair,
watching what must’ve felt
like the magic of the day
unfolding before her very eyes.

And, it was magic.
For a while her pain had subsided,
her knees didn’t hurt,
and she simply enjoyed her small,
nucleus, family as we unwrapped
the wonders laid out before us.

Her shoes,
the ones she deemed the most comfortable,
were yellow and black little tennies.

I called them her bumblebee shoes.
And, there they are in the bottom left corner of these last three photos.

Now, she’s gone.
Somewhere, around the corner, we say.
To the other side, we say.
But, she’s always near, we say.

And,
as I think of her now,
I imagine her as a drawing,
a cartoon,
like something that Bill Watterson
might have drawn up.
Bumblebee shoes,
looking a little bit like dinner rolls,

(That’s how Schultz described Watterson’s drawing of Calvin’s feet.)

her capri jeans,
showing her little birdie-like ankles,
and her comfy, orange Kool-aid Man shirt.

(I still have it.)

She’s still a bit wobbly,
unsteady on her feet,
but she’s doing okay.

So am I.
(Angela too.)
So’s Pops.
So are her grandkids.

We miss her.

And,
this Christmas is different,
that’s for sure.

But,
she walks into my thoughts,
coming from the kitchen of my memories,
carrying a cup of coffee
or
a plate of something wonderful for me to taste.

And, she’s always wearing her bumblebee shoes.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2018