Harvard’s Bestiary

Blessed are the birchmarked trees and pilchard burn,
the brought-out batteries of packed sardines and mellow tails –
the beekeepers net, soft and wild. Linen, muslin; fabric-genius.

                                                                  The holders of honey.
The bees sough, graze flower tongues and meet their Queen,
clandestine sorceress in jail-break colour.
Take chance and mount the hill beside, the lofty light,
and watch as pen to diary makes: to tell what of leaves,
a brier of twigs and fox-foot-fossils left in mud.

© Eve Redwater 2012

[Hello everyone! I’ve written this poem as a kind of addendum to The Bees – a poetic partnership of sorts. This week has been eaten up by my dissertation, phew – I’ve got some catching up to do!]

The Bees

Blessed are the flockmarked trees and bees made gold.
Indispensable bumbles, fluffs and fauna.

                                                                   Boysenberry,
Cranberry, tulle, Boysenberry, pawnbroker, penumbra. They scatter.
A fire above the blazing garden battle. Honeylove for a pout,
teacakes, Earls in Grey and flour white loaves. Caught at
the edge, the bee-sage makes a heavenly stout: pressed to lips,
a pleasant hum to make good the year and sun’s sweet sallow.

© Eve Redwater 2012

Today (21st March 2012) is World Poetry Day!