Friday, May 18, 2018
The bees foretelling...
Old men are prone to all manner of folly, like planting trees they will never see grown, but poplars grow fast. This one was just a foot tall when I brought it up the mountain and planted it here. Three springs later it already stands three feet above my reach. With a little luck, I might see it as high as my house before I go.
It isn't likely but barely possible I might still be above ground when it flowers. I'd probably be crowding ninety by then. Yet, sometimes, when I sit out on my porch on a quiet May morning and close my eyes to pray, I can hear, drifting back across those coming years to now, the drone of thronging bees.