Beyond the Beeline

Bumbling in the breeze, your banded body drifts casually into view. Flower waker, pollinator. Every lacy step a careful caress across the countless faces of

The Tragedy of the Bees

Weighed down by the delights of an afternoon’s jumbled scavenging you zigzag drunkenly across the sky; tumbling through monocultures to the wild abandon of your

Roadside Pollination

Fleeing down grassy corridors from whirring teeth that hack at your habitat with ill-managed discipline; this rich mossy canvas spat out as loamy clots, to

A Local Disappearance

Your recent absences have become More pronounced; The late spring evenings are no longer Alive with the industry of your approach, And the flowers in

A Musical Sound?

When someone’s voice is on repeat, You might begin to tap your feet; As into music, words do change, Sometimes the sounds we hear are

An Invisible Disorder

Your yellow petals shine with amber glow, And glisten in the cool autumnal breeze; Yet whilst I love the golden arcs you throw, It is

The Bees’ Scented Secrets

The bees effervescently Secreted sweet scents. They smelt smelly feet Then went wherever The sweetest smells went. They neglected the less Sweet smells, Seeded the

Twisted Love

Emerging from my host now fully grown, I test my twisted wings on freedom short; Then start my search for your sweet pheromone, And spy

The Pollen Thieves

The nightshade is a plant locked in a war, They keep their pollen under lock and key From pollen thieves who try to hit their