Poets United's Midweek Motif this week invites us to write of honey-bees.
The Extinction of the Bees
I used to take care,
placing my feet on
the clover-decked lawn.
You hummed everywhere
there, low to the ground,
a murmurous sound
quietly busy
before afternoon
’s warmth-induced swoon
when you reeled, dizzy
with honey and heat,
heavy and replete.
That was long ago
when I was a child –
the climate still mild
and what did we know
of changes we’d see
or losses to be?
My eightieth year
perceives your absence:
though colours and scents
still call to you here,
I’ve a bee-less garden.
Does God’s heart harden?
I cultivate weeds,
need miracles, pray.
Still you stay away.
Dandelion seeds
abound in my care
but their blooms are bare
of your many small
forms, collective song.
Oh, the world’s gone wrong!
Though I entice, call –
too little, too late ...
sealing our own fate.
