I.

Tending their queen, the bees
are nature’s maître ‘d’s –

in yellow-striped
black waistcoats

the
airborne workers
with spindly legs

seem to float, effortless

before they

whirl then speed,
tiny fur bullets
faster than

air.

#

Honeybees
pollen-reaping, pollen leaping
from bloom to bloom,

riding the wind in their
fuzzy yellow jodhpurs

bucking cross-currents,
buzzing the Earth’s magnetic skirts,
aiming for golden-whiskered bonnets,

following brother Scout’s crazy-eight
electrified contra-dance
from memory.

II.

(Microscopic bombers
skew and slue
through tiny wedges of
airy spherical fields)

our flight plan
acted out by
our jitterbug navigator
sending us reeling
across The Blue

(loading up progressive payloads,                                                                                                                           canary essence of plant propagation,                                                                                                                   botanical communication –

powdered life
mixed together
comes alive)

we land and prowl
over flowery orb

and with each
catapulting back
                                    into the open    vault
we give the world
a tiny spin

rose by rose
petal by pistil
one by one

we won’t drop our cargo
our precious ambergris
ambrosia in stasis
our honey-seed
until we’re

home sweet Hive

######