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(2012) The February Bee - Willard

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  • Sam
    The February Bee The bumblebee crept out on the stone steps. No roses. Nothing to gather. Nothing but itself, the cold air, and the spring light. It rubbed its
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 12, 2013
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      The February Bee

      The bumblebee crept out on the stone steps.
      No roses. Nothing to gather.
      Nothing but itself, the cold air,
      and the spring light.
      It rubbed its legs together
      as if it wished to start a fire
      and wear its warmth.
      Under its smart yellow bands
      the black body shone like patent leather.
      It groomed itself, like a pilot
      ready for takeoff and yet not ready:
      when my shadow fell over him
      he flicked his wings, checking them,
      and took off into the bare garden.

      - Nancy Willard
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