Catching Bees

Thirteen years since I've had the time to catch you--
look there goes one now, bizz-buzzing with a purpose.
I lay in the grass, blending in with the daisies, mason jar in hand,
sun beating down on my youth.
I wait patiently for my chance, like the freshly sewn crop.
Unsuspecting, you collect your bounty as I plot my ambush.
Then suddenly! you find yourself in a glass cage.

I wonder if you are as fascinated by me as I am by you.
A velvet back and yellow cloak envelops your spongy pulsing belly.
Large Cheeto anklets cling to your fuzzy scrambling legs.
Your eyes like black pomegranates peer through at me.
Great pipe cleaner antenna feel about, pondering.
I see your stinger at the ready but not the intent.
You fly around trying to escape, beating your rice paper wings.
I put my hands on the jar to feel the vibrations of your humming.

I begin to regret capturing you.
I lift the jar and watch you crawl about the tolerant grass.
Gathering yourself for takeoff
with a giant leap you're free.
Take me with you.
Lift this glass jar and teach me

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