In a pot on the window sill

I have some small, pink blossoms

Tucked into their green foliage.

The scouring bees

Riding high on air currents

And feisty, little wings

Spot them clearly,

And smack into the glass

With a thump.

 

I feel bad every time it happens

But I don't move the pot.

They never drop down dead

Or stunned, that I can see.

I wonder what they THINK

Crashing into NOTHING!

Do bees think?

Should I move the pot?

It looks so lovely on the sill.

Cynthia Buell Thomas, May 2020