Chives and Bees
The wind blows as if we live near the sea -
yet we do not.
The trees with their green cardigans and brown courdoroys -
sound like sighs and hushes.
It is morning, the street sleeps-
Or atleast it seems that way from our hive.
No one here knows that I am closed eyes, arms spread -
surrendering to the beauty of morning.
No one knows I am photographing the world waking up.
No one senses that I am as busy as a bee collecting chive dust.