A distant bird, dissatisfied by darkness, says the first word.
Minerals lie until broken.
Bees remember their drone in lives before this one.
If a fish wants to be photographed, it finds a hook with a fly.
A bee is more beautiful because of the honey.
Birds tell me things they don’t know, but I do.
I remember being dead before the bees reminded me.
Minerals can wait for the final word.