In a season of loss:
I went and sat beneath the linden tree,
named for the heavy blooms that awaken in June,
that draw the bees, that make them hum,
and sweeten the breeze throughout the town.
But today I found the tree had changed,
blossoms and perfume had faded.
The straggler bees now tasted only memory.
I wondered where the rest had gone.
The bench was quieter than it was before,
and the air, though fresh, was empty.