Gedicht
David Brooks
The Bees
The Bees
The Bees
I dream of myselfasleep upon a hillside,
those huge black bees – cmrlje –
emerging from the
dark hole of my mouth.
The bees
are groggy
and struggling toward the light
What have they
left in me?
What will they bring
from their slow
groping
over the bright fields?
How will I store it?
How will I take it home?
© 2006, David Brooks
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The Bees
I dream of myselfasleep upon a hillside,
those huge black bees – cmrlje –
emerging from the
dark hole of my mouth.
The bees
are groggy
and struggling toward the light
What have they
left in me?
What will they bring
from their slow
groping
over the bright fields?
How will I store it?
How will I take it home?
The Bees
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