On:

You can train the eye to spot heramong her many daughters;elongated abdomen, the darkthorax worn like a shield.And the way the others face her:a retinue of petals arounda flower’s ovary. They chose her,raised her, feed her, guard her.They would, if needed,surround her in a ball,with their bodies warm her,kill herContinue Reading

On:

The keepers mourned & the people asked what happens when the buzz is gone…where the apples, how the melons, can pickles be replaced? Everyone concerned wanted a conversation & talk is the opposite of observation. Consider the patience of a man seeking to understand the messages of bees, comprehend stepsContinue Reading

On:

The bees are laden with pollenthis time of year. I watch themlabor to rise, to carry theirbounty home. No malaise there, no sense of opportunities lost,ninety days doing what they wereborn for, a life fulfilled.Retirement is not part of their contract, of course, never thishammock, never these gin rickeys,never thisContinue Reading

On:

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

On:

My sister, Melissa, decided to take up beekeeping in May 2020, saying it was as good a pandemic-hobby as any, but it wasn’t.“Have you forgotten that you’re allergic to bees?” I asked over dinner at her and her wife’s house. We were a bubble of three since Diane’s parents wereContinue Reading

On:

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

On:

Drink from that honeypot,Let my sorrow dwarf in liquidity… She loves us whilst I try desperately to look for other bees,What a drone’s heart in a male bee! Drink that honeydew,That worker bee loved us still she went to other honeysuckles,She breached you, my heart, with flames of turmeric! IContinue Reading

On:

The bodies of the dead are carried,massed in their final resting place,laid away from the hive, unburied. This task falls on shoulders wearied—Mahogany boxes, wooden faces.The bodies of our dead are carried. Humans go below ground to be buried.Bees are piled above, in the shade,laid away from the hive, unburied.Continue Reading

On:

“Do you ever feel restless?” Asked the worker of a drone. “Long to live beyond the structuresThe hexagons of honeycombs? Ever feel we’re something more Than antenna twitches And wing flicks And buzzing bands of yellow In vast washes of green Under distant blankets of blue? Away from the queenApartContinue Reading