It seems the bees flee
their comb-filled hive
in route to a place
known only to them
in their flurry
humming all the way
to a dark hollow tree
or gray timbered
shaky leaning
abandoned place
where there is
room to build
a sweet life again
no more aware of the drive
that lifts
the honey center of their lives
that relocates the chambers
they will as one mind build
in symmetrical designs
all linked by wax walls
unable to withstand
the unsheltered
heat of a bright day,
how do they settle
in to calm at the noise
of their own homecoming
that sound the black and gold
swarm makes striping
the morning air
when greeting itself
after the panic of leaving.
5-29-05
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