The sky cleared today. Blue, beautiful. Clouds flirted in the sunlight.
Daffodils taunted late bloomers.
Forsythia flaunted her bright self.
Wind caressed me, my lover’s touch echoed.
For a moment so alive, so grounded.
Worker Bee. The parameters in the manual unaddressed while the fears of Queen Bee with power spew forth.
Insubordinate. Rude. Unfocused. Scary smart. Unapproachable. Everyone notices how you talk to me.
Spinning, contorting, censoring, Worker Bee raging but silent, then lip-syncing the right words,
What can I do? Thank you for your guidance.
Worker Bee. Ashamed. Self-preservation? Integrity?
How much obsequiousness before choking on one’s own bile. Joy dying moment by moment.
Worker Bee mourning.
Escape to self. Joy whispers…
Through the woods, pups, creek, wind, and sun.
Back, into the arms of my lover.