Midpoint bee hill sit

Midpoint of a long steep hill perfect for a proper sit,
on rabbit-nibbled, robin-hopped grass
intercepting the southwesterly of honeysuckle aspiration and pleasant din of I-70,
free of human eyes as truck drivers and warehouse stockers are gone after the bell.

Warm yellow bricks hold my gaze cozily; bees explore thistle.

I explore the windowless well...