The carpenter’s bee fumble-bumbles
Seeking petalcloth and pollenbeds
Her rotund behind jumbl-ing mumbl-ing
In crisp blankets of babypowder sky.
Her notecard wings thwap:
rumble-grumble
Bum-bum-bum
ble-tumble
And I think of us all. We, robust bumpity beauties,
who zig-zag on our quest for sweetness;
we, round opal beans, who oft dilly-dally in
meadow twigs or plop in puddles of mudwater
when wildflowers await; we, who tapdance the wind
when stumbling into Your morningglories;
we, fumbling our way forward, to drink
from one faith flowercup to the next.