Constancy and I

Busy brackets of organic architecture
Designed for the ends of stamen
And means of fruit to sweeten
Life as a bee.

So much sugar without lemons
Makes for sleepy sloppy work
And disinterest thereof.

Let their wings scratch the breeze
For no reason but sentience.

With the wings afloat, the fruit
Rots and contemplates virtue in
Selfishness. Hidden and forlorn
Petals curl.
And petals curl. (away from the sun-rain)
And petals curl. (apart from moon-light)
But never open.
There's no need, but restoration of habit.

Without nursing, the sun is relieved
Of the very reason it shines.
Holding a grudge against the bees
And the breeze and buds
It swallows and shines,
Gives and gives:

"My womb is no longer well-kept,
My fertility has disadvantaged
Constancy and I."