Five Bumblebees

I didn’t mean to harm them, I really did not.
I only wanted them to be mine.
I caught them with care, one after the other;
it was tricky, getting them all in one jar,
getting the new ones in
without any
                                                                       escaping.

I hadn’t thought what I would do with them;
I only knew I wanted them,
I wanted to catch them,
                 to own them,
                     to keep them,
they were so beautiful,
flying fluff balls the colours of honey and tigers and velvet.

When they called me in for lunch,
I hid them like a treasure,
                                       under the peonies in the grass.
I knew my parents wouldn’t approve
                                                          —and why?
I must have known it was wrong,
or maybe I didn’t,
but I think, if I’m honest, I probably did.

When I came back out and picked up the jar,
they were all still in there,
                                         but they were dead.

Five Bumblebees

Five little fluff balls the colours of honey and tigers and velvet,
lying at the bottom with their legs sticking up.
My mother came out and was cross,
or perhaps disappointed, I don’t remember which.

I was sorry,
         so sorry,
I hadn’t meant to harm them,
I just hadn’t thought
                                that they’d die without air.
Or perhaps the heat killed them,
it was June, after all.

Whatever the case may be,
they never knew
that I killed them by accident,
not
out
of
spite.