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the bee

the winged smith,
honey maker
not owner,
selfless service, his reward,
so is his
loyalty to hive life,
and what is he born for,
within the swarm
but his own need few
and fewer his hours of toil
yet honors the great task
of keeping earth fresh, full of life.
Self converted into
an energy, interacts
with another force- the tassels
and carries out
the process of creation
through a swap
of nectar and pollination,
drawn from thorns and thistles
luxuriant in our wilderness,
conceive,
what turns out to be-
primary sustenance
decay-proof, honey
when man
was still toddling around
for a roof and hearth.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus