Classic Poem

Compression of bees,
shrub-shaped, in proton loops,
on cushioned air. Spring!
See the counter, its bright ticking
with fail-safe growth. Who put
it there? this tubular, tight package,
green and red wires running to
hidden terminals - watch the numerals
flick over, air fill with warmth,
this thing ready to go off at a season's
notice, a bursting forth, flash
of filmic green and bloom
too quick to catch as we exit our
buildings in a rush to see it.