The Buzz
From ten or so metres away there is nothing,
just the rustle of the wind through the grass,
the occasional whoop of a distant teen
on the basketball court, the rattle and squeak
in the murmuration of nearby starlings,
the hum of a ride-on mower cutting its path
through the grass, the exotic sounding chatter
of budgerigars making its way from elm to plane.
But if you step
closer, step
right
underneath
each evenly
spaced halo
of pale blossom,
you can hear the
hum, feel the
vibration of
each wing’s
quick sweep,
see the bees
flying
from flower
to
flower.
Jack Houston works for the public library service in Hackney and plays drums with Bugeye. Other work can be found online at The Morning Star, London Grip, New Boots & Pantisocrasies and the London Journal of Fiction.