“The Death of the Bee” by Linda Pastan

The biography of the bee
is written in honey
and is drawing
to a close.

Soon the buzzing
plainchant of summer
will be silenced
for good;

the flowers, unkindled
will blaze
one last time
and go out.

And the boy nursing
his stung ankle this morning
will look back
at his brief tears

with something
like regret,
remembering the amber
taste of honey.

Poem copyright ©2002 by Linda Pastan,“The Death of the Bee,” from If Bees Are Few: A Hive of Bee Poems, Ed., James P. Lenfestey, (Univ. of Minnesota Press, 2016).  Originally published in Last Uncle,(W. W. Norton & Co., 2002).

“I hadn’t been out to the hives before …

“I hadn’t been out to the hives before, so to start off she gave me a lesson in what she called ‘bee yard etiquette’. She reminded me that the world was really one bee yard, and the same rules work fine in both places. Don’t be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don’t be an idiot; wear long sleeves and pants. Don’t swat. Don’t even think about swatting. If you feel angry, whistle. Anger agitates while whistling melts a bee’s temper. Act like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.”

― Sue Monk KiddThe Secret Life of Bees

 

* Posted in parallel with Words for the Weekend: Daisys Up Your Butterfly (Vol. 23)