A World Without Bees
Honey, each spoonful
a liquid moment of summer,
556 bees drone through
their six week life span
to create one pound of honey.
Bees splatter the windshield
as I race north on this
slash of highway
twinned now to let us
hurry by ever faster.
My mind hums bee stories.
I notice hives hunkered
all over the harvest landscape
– along the soft bend
of the Smoky River,
tucked beside a rusting combine
in a field of late canola.
I think about bees,
who also rush
who travel 80000
kilometres in their
short summer of life
sure of their urgent purpose
making honey,
honey, honey for the hive.
Are they as blind
to the big picture
as we are, I wonder,
in their hurry,
their determination
to gather all they can,
to make honey
while the sun shines?
Splat! Another bee wiped out.
What if we finally
understood the magnitude
of this tiny creature’s
footprint?
I imagine life
without the bounty
of fruits and vegetables
that ripen only
because of their
single-minded purpose.
I imagine a world
without bees,
without the fruit
of their labour,
a lifetime of dry bread
and water.
~ Dymphny Dronyk
Dymphny Dronyk is a writer, artist, mediator and mother. She is passionate about the magic of story and has woven words for money (journalism, corporate writing) and for love (poetry, fiction, drama, mystery novels) for over 25 years. After years of rambling on an eclectic career path (camp cook, editor, waitress, photographer), her gypsy spirit took root in the Peace Country and her energy is now directed towards raising her 3 children and running her business (Dynamic Data Complete Emergency Response Planning).
Her first volume of poetry, Contrary Infatuations, was published by Frontenac House as part of Quartet 2007. Dymphny is currently serving as President of the Writers Guild of Alberta.
This poem is part of a series of poems she is working on about bees.
Leave a Reply