I’m sorry I panicked when I saw you,
rolling down my window,
pinwheeling you into traffic miles from your hive.
You must have snuck into my car
during last night’s storm, unable
to find your way out.
Bees have a homing instinct.
I hope you’ll manage the journey
back to your queen.
Along the way, will you stop
at foreign flowers and arrive
with your legs laden with souvenirs?
I hope your friends appreciate how hard it is
to be pushed out before
you’re ready, forced to fly.
At least one of us belongs to a species
that doesn’t count ending up back home
Matthew Pritt writes mostly Appalachian fiction and poetry. His poems have appeared in Star*Line, Not Deer Magazine, and Bear Creek Gazette. He lives in West Virginia with five cats. You can see pictures of them on his Twitter @MatthewTPritt.
Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson