The Searchers

God bless the searchers wandering through this maze that we call yesterday and today the pollen of living on their bee faces they flicker into our lives then back to shadow for awhile their sky mirages always brightening our eyes. Along the bent path they pick up bushels of pollen and thimbles of poison legs growing ever heavy from the mercuric risks they embrace. They're the purist type of brave walking into the pugilist of indifference with bloody bee faces. I'm envious of them God bless the searchers.