I Waited for the Bee
I waited for the bee to finish its dance atop the lavender stalk I wanted to harvest, watching the way it hovered and carefully lowered itself to the task, delicate legs dangling and dusted. I have learned patience in this performance of gathering. I, too, dance and hover, snipping the wavering stem at its base to encourage blossoming. After they have dried, I pluck each calyx and corolla and place it in a jar, the concentrated scent overwhelming. This is what I was put on earth to do. This painstaking distilling, cultivating until the time is right, and then, at the exact right moment, making full use of the sharpness of the blade.
Bernadette Geyer is the author of The Scabbard of Her Throat (The Word Works) and editor of My Cruel Invention: A Contemporary Poetry Anthology (Meerkat Press). Read more.