Amid the sunrise,
amid the flowers ornate,
she sits on a wooden throne,
laced with vines.
She wears a dress of yellow moss,
and a crown of black and clear iridescent stones.
She softly smiles,
as the sun bears witness
upon her golden face.
She continues to gaze at the plants at her feet—
those some people call weeds.
There is beauty in their simplicity,
and grace in their hardiness.
Dandelion, lavender,
rosemary, and mint.
These and many more beauties
beam up at her with full gratitude,
the full lusciousness of spring
is finally with them here.
And as the sun continues to rise—
here comes those delicate flying insects,
the ones who power the earth.
They come one by one,
two by two,
three by three.
Their coats are golden yellow,
and deepest black.
And the beekeeper’s smile grows bigger,
seeing as they work.
They fly amongst the weeds.
They gather the life force,
only to let it go,
to spread it along their paths.
They curl in the blossoms to sleep—
they buzz loudly,
in unison.
They are free—
yet dedicated above all else.
they are devoted to community,
they lovingly bow to existence.
The instinct to survive,
the need to thrive,
that is all they need and want.
And she continues to watch the bees dance.
The peace settles in her bones,
as the sun continues its path higher
in the spring sky.
I wrote this poem sometime in 2022. It has a definite springtime feel, but I decided to post this now before summer is “officially” over. The real bees are probably beginning to settle in for the cooler months ahead. At any rate, enjoy this poem and the last bit of warmth we have before autumn starts getting super cold! If you don’t mind, please leave me a comment with your thoughts and questions! I would love to hear from you.
Have a lovely day! 🙂
P.S.: The bee drawing above was hand drawn by my mom! Isn’t it so pretty? 🙂
