Don't Drink Bees

a young bud
wet with dew
becomes a youth
adorned in yellow green
holding tightly
to the maternal branch

his hue darkens
deepens
with experience
understanding
and age

until
with confidence
and maturity
he becomes
an individual
expressing himself in swirls
and splashes
of magentas, yellows, oranges

he lets go of mother's hand
and flies
soars like a kite
without a string
rides the autumn wind

then when he has completed his journey
he settles in
against the earth
at the base of a tree
with fellow aviators
to prepare for the next bud

whom he will nourish
and raise
to soar
to similar spectacular heights