Abejo Blanco

White bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey.

Flying in winds of slow spiral smoke,

Leaving only the hive to seek the nectar

Of flowers blossoming in the light

Returning to comb in the colony.

Brown bee, apparently buzzing sober with sweat,

Collecting seedlings in a bursting wind

Chasing sun through shadows in pastures distant.

Row upon row built in the nesting,

Queenly bee disguised, hers a great singular effort.

White bee, brown bee saw you last autumn

In peace and stillness you fluttered

Bemused by a sweet trail

Encouraged by the wings of proud sound

Yet untimely the course to fly together

When winter was so soon to follow.

This spring unfolds with old travels forgotten,

And bees retreat to familiar patterns.

Sweeter fields to sweep in ever changing winds.

The brown bee hears often your soulful buzz

Oh, abejo blanco zumbas—you hum too well.

Johanna Vanderspool
May 19, 2009