The Busy Orchard

In a far land where thoughts are woven with clouds in the sky.
Where the nature of minds grew like a paradise.
It wasn't the beauty made when some magic hand was laid.
It was an orchard knitted out of countless failures and tries.

Ponds and lakes by rains were made.
And shaggy trees stood in the soothing soil.
And when the night falls and the twilight fades.
Along with stars, the moths lit up their tails.

The bees and bugs and butterflies.
The frogs and fishes and quacking ducks.
The cotton clouds hide the birds that fly.
And the wind ruffled the grass, there, the music lies.

Amongst this cherished land of life.
The little Wasp wanders lost out of time.
Down and up and right and left.
He wonders- what can be the purpose of mine?

The whole orchard all too busy to see.
What the little Wasp all day has to feel.
All the things this beauty can turn from sadness to glee.
But the black Wasp as he was, blue he always is.

Time and change walk hand in hand.
The sun rose and the day came all the same.
A hummingbird humming on her way to the Pollenland,
Saw what sadness on the little Wasp lay.

“Come along my friend come fly with me.
Methinks you may find what you seem to seek!”
They flew that day and the Wasp could see (though vaguely)-
That the purpose is maybe to let it be.

“Fear not and flap your wings,
Might it take you where you want to be!”
That was the song that she then taught
To the buzzing wasp who was now humming!

Here they are and it is the matter of time.
Neither the time to be sad nor the time to cry.
The Humming and the Wasp in the Orchard- busy,
Flew wherever were wild and free.
Flew whenever, singing happily.


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