SHOCK

3
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.

With thanks to @promptsbyjasmine and Beck Wolski

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