Wild Bee-Fly

Bombylius Major

Our close encounter gives me pause;
     This is no normal bee.
As I bend down to study him,
     Does he then study me?

Triangular and fuzzy brown
     With long protruding beak,
He hovers in the air with ease—
     Full-bodied and yet chic.

By chance we meet on Sweeney Ridge
     Above the busy crowd,
Where nothing but the calling crows
     Could be considered loud.

We both are on the open trail
     This perfect day in spring;
His presence demonstrates to me
     The wild in everything.

©2019 Michael Fraley

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