I thought about the kate tour all night last night and into this morning. I thought about it as I lamely packed my dog into the truck and chinsed him out of our morning walk by driving our lazy asses to the top of Bernal. The hill was shrouded in a dense fog, and I couldn't see much past the first row of houses.
poof*
I haven't yet explained to myself, or justified such a remarkable chance. That when I looked down at the path momentarily I saw what I'd been looking for.
That chance to save,
but just a little, nothing like finding a stray,
nothing that saintly.
It found me, or rather I found a dew drenched bumble bee. (She made no mistake finding you cowboy. that little dog picked you.)
Resting? Or frozen in my hand, four points touching my skin. Sometimes I think that that's why we are all put on this earth, to bump into one and other, we cause friction and today I am 10 again, fighting the fear of the stinger.
I'm not afraid.
I ask him.
were you just born?
were you caught in the rain last night?

Am I your hospice or your nursery?

he began to move in circles, circulating.
I breathed on him and thought funny, I feel like Christ.
His little antenna unstuck from his little eye. He seemed to grow in my hand. I took him to the car, Simon gently sniffed him too, his halo chimed.
I took him home and wondered what to do with him. If I keep him in a jar with some sugar water I am assured that he is okay. But if he is okay, I've just wasted one beautiful day of his life.
The streets of San Francisco are no place for a hungover Bumble.
His wings unstuck, the Bumble Buzzed!
Remembering that I have the most fantastic roof garden in the Mission, I took to the stairs in twos, holding my little Bumble gently.
Will you be okay on a branch?
no
the picnic table will allow this incessant twirling you insist on repeating.
then, pluck
here's a daisy Mr. Bumble, when you're done.