I woke today in a yurt with a bee in my bed. Curious, I snatched him up assuming lint or thread or something soft and innocuous. He moved and I placed him on the pillow next to my head. Unafraid Unharmed I snatched the quintessential symbol of childhood terror between thumb and forefinger Intimate and safe we shared my pillow in the hills of West Virginia As I prepared to visit my father's grave As I nursed my hangover As I treasured my solitude and wished, more than anything, for a friend. I call him Carl. How long have I dusted around fear? (and what silhouettes are awaiting my courage) How long have I left this pain untouched, afraid of its uncurling in my mind afraid of the space it would take of the Heather it would consume of the Heather it would leave behind. Today I am curious and picked Carl up to look more closely. Today is, apparently, the day I examine fear. Perhaps today is the day I give it, too, a name.