Of Bees and Flowers

On those rocky cliffs and endless pains,

Lay swathes of flowers in endless plains.

Green in joy and red with blushes,

Standing in ignorance and songs of thrushes.

Where winters would bring sorrowful cold

There was joyful wine and stories told.

In the ripe months of molten summer

Celebration under stars would daily brimmer.

And here was a Flower and there a Bee

Flirting amid the gentle West's hours wee.

Red and yellow, bright and pamper

Was this ordinary flower none damper,

But was the star of the Bee's eye

None else red and yellow would she fly.

Of their deals was the day's essence

Was there heaven but in their presence!

Mushy insides of his patterned velvet

Where once a musky heart lay rivet

Was the wait for the pompous queen

Who with her airy kisses did him wean.

The light of play, the light of deceit,

The curtain cast on the dark retreat,

The child of solace, fear and desire-

Hope held them together like fire.

And the Bee thus buzzed around the Flower

Sang of his pollen and nectar's power.

Crunched them home into pockets of honey

To return with the Sun back to her plummy;

Till that day when the winds on the ground lay

The skies extinguished in the middle of the day,

The mirth of the ground went back to the sky

And the Sun but from the West did fly.

Bewildered, she set off for the fields

To the grey pasture and the harrowing shields.

Where in the carpet had been her kin

Lay but a barren heath of sin.

Wherefore does she go from nature's treason

Among his bones at the end of reason?

Back at home did she hold him fast

In the honey, when she breathed her last.