A Survivor
By: Johnan Robertson
About The Poem
I used to sit at my front door and look at the empty street. The bumble bees were very active. If I walked round to the passageway at the side of our house, the bumble bees used to float in the air, full of pollen. I had to wind my way carefully between them to avoid banging into them.
The Poem
From my open door, I see
A bumble bee
Full of happiness and pollen
Tumbling round and round
In the gentle breeze
The wind rises,
And the bumble bee falls
And comes to rest
Between the instep of my foot
and the side of my shoe.
The beautiful, buzzing bumble bee
Drops into my shoe.
Only a tiny bit of its bottom
can be seen
And it’s moving.
The touch of the bumble bee
Quivers on the sole of my foot.
The tickling goes on and on
Then it stops
I hold my breath
Suddenly, the head of the bumble bee
Pops out
Between the instep of my foot
And the side of my shoe.
I breathe out softly
As the bumble bee floats into the air
Full of happiness and pollen
Tumbling round and round
In the gentle breeze
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