In the grey dawn, in this time of in between,
in the silent barreness
of our woods underground
bumble bees draw close,
and chipmunks remain silent,
praying for a blanket
of snow, and to remember
where their acorns
lay hidden.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
The bumble bees move quickly now, having seen the leaves
begin to change, heeding the warning
from Father Sky, that frost
is on its way.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Prophets and lovers often to look to the rose,
drawing us closer
to the most divine of words,
loving syllables inviting heaven’s light
in soft petals, encouraging
bumble bees
to drink more deeply.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Soon and very soon the flowers will begin pushing, breaking the ground
and tender shoots will reach for the sun, carrying hope
moving up, opening and spreading their petals.
And I love how they are never afraid of the bees, taking
from them, nor even of cross-pollination – the invention
of something new, bold colors to inspire and make us think
mixing could help us become, even more beautiful.
Let’s hope they say a prayer for us, as we cower in our corners,
resisting the brightness of our sun, and afraid of the bees.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
