I see her blond hair
watch her on the bench
separating men from their souls
with a smile

she might harvest them
but she has no need

I marvel at her hand
pulling strands of gold
from her eyes
sanctifying a hundred marriages
as they walk by

she might not harvest them
she has no desire

I gaze on her lips
read the words as they roll
to the rubbish barrel
seduce the bees
they zip away to a sweetness
only she can know for sure

she might release them
she smiles