Deep Heather

From a distance, 

A bruised birthmark

On the face of a steep hill

Closer,

The wind spoon stirs,                                    

One twist amethyst

The next, mallard green

Bees, like boxers

Dodge the nodding punch balls.

Waiting for a snatch of pollen,

Not concussion.

So thick it lies,

So deep and strong.

Built for novice comets

To have a second try