There’s an alchemy that happens every spring. On the apple trees in my yard and down the road in the abandoned field, buds swell and soon fill the air with delicious scentof apple blossoms.. The bees waken and buzz nosily into each bloom. Later, in the autumn, the bees will return and grow drunk on the last fermented fruits hanging out of reach for both me and the deer.

Apple Tree

A sudden gust of wind 

pushed petals into the air

over the roof  into the field

The apple tree looked worse for wear

like a woman after a night on the town

finery put away    make up off    tousled

Bumble bee bees 

courted her

nuzzling at each bloom

They burrowed their way in

murmured promises and tickled

each stamen    Fickle lovers 

After that gust of wind 

the bees abandoned her for

newly opened daisies

The tree had her own intentions

she was an alchemist   turned

blossoms into fruit

Her branches are spread wide now

she’s been here longer than

any other tree

But she still can seduce with bloom and scent —   

those honey bees still court her