Honey Bees
by Janet Smith Post

Little furry cupids,
with wings as sheer as a wedding veil,
carrying magic consummation
to endless blossoms in waiting,
from orchids to potato blooms
tireless little matchmakers.

Filled with the wine of nectar,
they take their leftovers home:
bits of bridal cake upon their legs,
bees eat pollen too–
practical little romantics–
feeding the world on six tiny legs.

They potion a golden syrup
most mellifluous
to rest upon our tongue,
along with its name:
our endearment word
of sweetness.



 

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