Strange, these things I remember. Was it summer or fall that I first heard the sound,
the swarming of bees in eucalyptus trees where they’d made their hive? Yes, it was
a warm September – the bright red flowering blossoms had long before fallen, I think in June,
for me, much too soon, for the blooms summoned bees that made golden honey.

I watched them swarm in the warm dry air, an enormous buzzing, an azure sky filled with
thousands of bees surrounding their Queen, leaving their hive to search for a new place
to build honeycombs and raise young. It left me dumb of tongue, that all I was able was to watch
in awe nature’s ancient ritual, earthbound as solidly as trees, wishing I had some purpose here
as great as those bees.

 

(prose poem – November 8, 2015)

 

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