Written by Catherin J Pascal Dunk
Honeybees are sunny,
golden things
like their manna.
And they’re dying in droves.
I remember:
one caught in my hair,
lured by apple shampoo;
the burn of a sting
from summer grass;
Dad in his beesuit,
smoker in hand;
jars from far places—
hot clover, smooth yellowbox;
our bathroom, pungent with honey
when that swarm chose our ceiling;
a lifetime of rescues
from pools, on leaves.
I miss them in the trees:
their busy-buzzy;
the hum of spring.
I’m anaphylactic
to this destruction.
Text © Catherin J Pascal Dunk
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By now we know insecticides, herbicides, monoculture are the real pests…
But there are many groups pushing politicians to ban their use. No choice but to support those groups such as ‘foodwatch international’.
Brings to mind the time I had a bee in my hair. Not pleasant, and I know we need them.