the tired, creased hum of the ceiling fan
soothes the crushed reality
of losing sleep
I can’t see the forest through the leaves
running from the bite of the shark
the sting of the bee
the wasp and the yellowjack
too busy chasing their own dreams
to really notice me more than the hungry, angry sea
or sweet purple petunia petals
dappled ponies
and golden honey combs.
Still, I believe that yellowjack is back
in my magic garden
searching just for me.
Doesn’t he know I’m busy writing poetry?
or does everyone have their own version
of happiness
and reality?
Happiness is a lovely day in June that inspired me and Move Me Poetry on Medium writing.
© Connie Song 2023. All Rights Reserved.
