WHEN INSECTS GROW UP

1.

This place is reserved 
for the bee. 
At last!
The blooming verge
Is his own and he is on it. 

On the verge
of adulthood,
Mother is all:
Legislation! Time isn't
All sweet tessellations!

And a little hand 
on the shoulder
(You’ll be fine, honey).

Though the distance doesn't quite drown
Out the drones he finds
Himself petalled 
With the pleasures of
Independence.

Written after a week in Taupo spent running away from bumble bees and reading Jenny Bornholdt's Summer, which features these beautiful drawings by her husband, and fellow poet, Greg O'Brien.