Bumblebee

tireless soul

doing what you must

long after the purpose

of the work is gone

winter interrupting

october's blue skies

with gray clouds

and blustery winds

it's too hard now 

one hour

in fading light

you descend

from your last flight

stop to rest

on a curling leaf

or the dry petals

of a remaining flower

drift off into

an exhausted sleep

filled with dreams

of buzzing wings

and pollen sacks

then alone

without a sound

tumble softly

to the ground