Of Bees
       

Bees have a Commonwealth and regiment.
They go about in Spring, as Beanes bloume.

How cleane their hives, no trumperie or gubbins.
All filth is foot-balled smartlie out.

They take joye in the clapping of hands,
the brute call of brasen bassoons.

Their young, a knit-worke of severall flowres,
their sinews petals, handsomely composed.

Concerning honie, and its origin: a skie-sweat,
a glutinous gellie, proceeding from starres.

This substance, the aires liquor, Bees gather.
With rainebows comes a drisling dew of honie,

as lovers prove, their kisses glewie-sweet.

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Copyright © 2016 A.B. Jackson All rights reserved
from The Wilderness Party
Bloodaxe Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission