The wind is at my window
as a bee comes storming in –
big burly bumbler banging
at blurred glass and stained timber.
He hurls himself around
buzzing like a pylon in a thunderstorm.
He spurns my hat
doffed to guide him out.
He zooms like a space-ship
on edge to be off to the stars.
As his fury grows, I shrink.
His roaring envelops me.
If this were the war
he would be a bomber
broody with high explosive
over crystal city.
But he’s found the gap and is away
helter-skelter over the brambles
out of my muddle into the storm.
I draw the curtains across the wind.
© Martin Bates
This one comes from Green Spaces: poems from Poetry Space Competition 2011 and was highly commended by judge Rose Flint. The remit for the competition was for poets to write on green themes, green spaces that had personal or wider meaning.
This is well worth a read and is available from the online shop