Winter is Coming

A haibun for Kim’s prompt for dVerse Poets Pub.  The prompt is about insects. I love insects. A haibun is part prose, part poetry. Modern haibun are lengthy. I prefer the original form created by Basho, a more condensed version.

Winter Is Coming
“I love insects. They are amazing. ” Andrea Arnold

I climb up in my tree and listen. The insects in the woods are quiet, except for the cricket making his few chirps before the frost of winter comes to claim him for its own. A last butterfly flits among the trees, floating on the slight breeze. It is the beginning of autumn and all of the insects are going into hibernation for winter. I do not weed the milkweed away from my lawn as butterflies will build their cocoons on them.  Even the bees I keep in my hive are getting ready for winter. There is a mite infesting bee hives, Varroa, decimating the bees. I inspect the hive and carefully catch bees to inspect them. No mites. For now my bees are safe. I feed them extra sugar water and stop collecting honey so they can use it to live over the winter. The cold of winter is coming. Cicadas are burrowed down into the earth, butterflies are in their cocoons, crickets have snuck into our houses and are curled up in our closets snug for the winter, bees are sugar loading for winter.
insects are preparing
for winter – frost will soon
coat the grass

The Bees and I

For Poets United, Mid-week Motif: Bees and honey

The Bees and I
“The happiness of the bee and the dolphin is to exist. For man it is to know that and to wonder at it.”
Jacques Yves Cousteau

Watching my bees leave the hive
and return I know they are preparing
for cold weather.
The bees are clustered on several oriole feeders
scattered about the yard.
Like them, I am preparing for winter –
canning the last of the tomatoes,
cucumbers brining for pickles,
peaches all amber in their jars.
Soup mixture – my favorite –
tomatoes, butterbeans, and the last of the corn
sleepily drowsing in jars ready for winter soups.
The bees and I have much in common.
They feed and begin storing up honey
to see them through the winter.
Their survival over the winter and
our survival over the winter –
DNA for them and nurture for us.
I let them store up their honey
as I have harvested and have several jars
of liquid gold on the shelves.
When the temperature drops
I will have constructed windbreaks for them.
My yellow stethoscope hangs by the door
to listen to them in the hive
all safe and warm in winter.
I was stung once this spring and used my EpiPen
and took myself to the hospital.
A small price to pay for the saving of the planet.
My bees makes me happy,
traveling with them in my dreams.

Backyard Disco

For the Midweek Motif at Poets Unite – Dance.  I was really into Disco in the 1970’s.  Gay Pride and free dancing were all born in the discos.

Backyard Disco
“Up above my head I hear music in the air that makes me know there’s a party somewhere” – The Trammps, Disco Inferno

Bees go back and forth in
weaving do-si-dos,
butterflies soar and dip,
hummingbirds hover and then zip!
it is a disco inferno in my back yard –
how the creatures dance
and make me dance too

Back Home

For Magaly’s Prose Pantry with the theme Away From Home. And under 313 words.  I did under 250 words.

Back Home
“It is a big world, full of things that steal your breath and fill your belly with fire…But where you go when you leave isn’t as important as where you go when you come home.” – Lindsay Eagar, Hour of the Bees

As much as I love adventure and new things, the thing I like best about being away from home is coming home. I love sleeping in my own bed with my toys and cats around me. The familiar sounds of family moving about the house, fixing breakfast, doing laundry, cleaning, talking and laughing, the comfortable smells. I still feel that way. I have travelled the world over and had a hell of a time doing it. Late nights on the Ginza, early mornings riding in Hyde Park letting the horse have its head, sucking up a bowl of stone grounds grits with sun yellow butter in Charleston, sneaking into a restaurant kitchen in Philadelphia and helping wash dishes.   But again, I like returning home the best.

I sit on my back porch with an espresso looking at the bees going to and from their hive. I wonder if they feel the same. A busy day of pollen gathering sometimes miles away. I wonder if they enjoy getting back in their hive and sleeping. The hawks that drift in the sky, butterflies floating, the cicada that burrows up through the dirt to trundle about the ground, his belly tymbals opening up and beating quickly for his would-be mate. Even the sun returns among the stars to sleep.

 

Haibun: Bees

Haibun: Bees
“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.” Emily Dickinson

I began keeping bees last year. I wanted to be sure because it is quite a commitment. I have one hive but it is a busy one! A typical hive takes visiting about two million flowers a season to produce one pound of honey. I often sit on my back steps watching them going back and forth, in and out of flowers. I keep clover blooming from late winter to late autumn. It is a labor of love with me. Listening to their somnolent hum, their burying themselves in flowers and coming out covered with pollen. Interestingly, they do not destroy their source of pollen as humans destroy their source of anything in the natural world. And I must confess, I am allergic to bee stings!
bee staggers drunk –
sipped sweetness day long
and slept well all night

Bells

For Susie’s prompt at Real Toads, day 18 of NAPOWRIMO: Bells and flowers

Bells
The bee collects honey from flowers in such a way as to do the least damage or destruction to them, and he leaves them whole, undamaged and fresh, just as he found them. Saint Francis de Sales

Flower bells silently ring in the
soft spring breeze.
Bees busily climb in and out
emerging yellow with pollen.
Lily of the vally,
Campanula in shades of
Sky, rose, cloud –
Late blooming narcissus with
their tiny tea cup blooms
and honey sweet fragrance.
Across the yard floats
The sound of cardinals,
their bell-like tones
filling the air with music –
calling the creatures to come,
Worship spring.

RxFe7u3I

Z-Z-Z-Z

Clover blooms – drowsy

Fragrance entices bees to

Nap in snow white beds.

 

I breathe deeply of

clean sweet perfume.  My eyes droop.

I drift on bee’s wings.

 

 

 

 

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