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I discovered the beehive when I was nine. I was playing hide and seek with Rebecca and stumbled across the little nest in the woods that were the boarding house’s yard. It was no bigger than a football when I first found it, the hive barely buzzing with its residents.Continue Reading

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He the hairy-footed flower beegoes around comes aroundgingery brown buzzes a humover lungworts, dead nettles bumps from his shallow hollow nestto find a mate before he dieswanting a new humthat will wrap him in pollen far from humorous bravadoof wings vibrating the airwhich is what we want:a final hymn unembellishedContinue Reading

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Such buzz the honey bee:small wonder Miles Davislived in a bee-loud glenwhen he played his hornlet his wings vibratefrom bee balmto marsh blazing star. John Davis is a polio survivor and the author of Gigs and The Reservist. His work has appeared recently in DMQ Review, Iron Horse Literary Review,Continue Reading

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Here is the light he was born intofragile green glowalready in wind and leavesday winding downTo open a tunnel of airTo hover above the cloverhomeless in lovewith the touch of earthTo waver in brush and weedsInvincible flit of flight John Davis is a polio survivor and the author of GigsContinue Reading

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The pollinators sing,and the perennials dance through their short little lifespan. The bridge takes us over the water,And my two little wheels gift me freedomand grant me an overwhelming sense of calm. I wish that nature would take back over, and we could lay downand relinquish the earth unto her.(HerContinue Reading

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Steven broke up with Kelly after she was stung by the bee. I can confirm this because I was there. According to Kelly’s version of the story, she broke up with Steven before the bee sting. I don’t know what I expected when I called her out on the discrepancy.Continue Reading

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Ronnie’s hair had grown flaxen in her old age. It blew and tangled in the breeze as she made it up the hill, wicker basket in one hand as she cupped the space above her brow with the other. One of her bees, a long way from home, crawled alongContinue Reading

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dreamt a country of wild beesduring the usual restless sleeponly, they were augmented by the troubleof domestication, that in mind’s countrythe systems are kept in line, in delicate assemblage when I woke, I wished this world to be madeof hexagonal prisms, a honeycomb we could climb throughand lay up againstContinue Reading

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Back in the old days,It would be busy, I could still smell the fresh honey…Every car would make their stop. That quick stop to that convenience shop,My grandparents sharecrop.Passengers grabbing honeypots and honey buns. Back in today’s days,It is so dusty.It is like my sunset, rusty. I can smell theContinue Reading

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Eloping,I ran back to the fresh beehive,I found solace in those little creatures, I shut down all modalities of modernity.I craved for peace when my heart pulsed. Freshly allied with the horizon,I laughed with the honeybees, Pulsating of thrills,I relapsed in an extinguished breathe, One which I lost on myContinue Reading