By Donna Isaac
Where does the bee go after the hollyhock?
A stick boy with a blue balloon waited to see,
the bumble so ripe in summer air.
Doesn’t everyone watch and wait?
The ice is out on the lake.
Sky enough for bluebirds, flycatchers.
What else is coming?
The eagle cam shows a clutch of three eggs.
Amazon package on the porch.
Why are we the lucky ones?
Earth unscorched, bodies in motion.
A starburst heart on a sonogram.
When will we be together?
It will be autumn before we know it.
We’ll have cake.
Copyright 2021 Isaac