Inviting the Bees
by Paulette Demers Turco

I choose a spot with morning sun,
far from paths of anyone,
with hours of cool shade after noon
and many paths for bees to wing
as temps grow warm this early spring
while bulbous plants are blossoming.

            Jonquil clusters, hyacinths
            merge with ivory-petalled scents.

I build a wooden box on legs,
its bottom flat, sides held with pegs,
a double-layered lid the regs
insist upon. Inside, I place
a brood box–waxed–to fill the space.
Eight frames slide in with silent grace.

            Daffodils and dogwood trees,
            magnolias might draw the bees.

The entry faces midday sun.
But will it draw what’s sure to stun
me–busy, nectar-laden hon-
ey bees as I look on to spy
the scene and keep my terrier, Skye,
from veering, nosing too close by?

            Azalea, rhododendron blooms
            await their week to burst their plumes.

I hope to coax the local bees
to more than peer inside, to seize
the space, to cater to and please
the queen, and father progeny.
I first must draw a scouting bee.
Lemongrass oil, rubbed carefully–

            as pink-tinge-petalled apple trees
            rustle in the still-crisp breeze–

can simulate bee pheromones,
yet-unrequited-love colognes,
so he is smitten by unknowns.
His sense of romance stirs a game
some say can light an endless flame.
Then … I see the bees. They came.