bees – Ancient Skies

Acorns

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.