After talking with folks at the Bisbee Farmer’s Market, doing my laundry, and checking my post office box in Bisbee, I drove back to my desert home, hung out the laundry, and took a nap. I woke up after a while, finding that Dingo and the tomcat were sprawled out on the bed near me. I began to re-read Mary Barnard’s wonderful translations of Sappho’s poems.
I noticed a bit of distracting commotion; the tomcat seemed to have pounced on something — a fly, perhaps? Suddenly the cat jumped up, looking perturbed, and swiped at his mouth with one paw. He jumped off the bed and ran under it. I saw a moribund honeybee where the cat had been, picked it up, and flung it onto the floor.
I returned to my book after this mild domestic calamity and found this poem, one I’ve always liked, perhaps more so now that I am older: