From the memory of a friend

A school friend of mine, Brett Duncan, commented on a poem and recalled memories of he and I catching bees when we were little kids. It got me thinking. Although I usually try to show two poems per post, I wanted to get this out. I wrote it last night.

Bees

Funny how bees (like our memories)
Find their way home.

Can bring back the stuff of love and flowers
(Honey gold thick on the bread of our lives).
Can sting us to tears
(from sacrifice and loss).

If trapped in a jar
They bang headlong against glass walls of reality
(They die)
No matter how many holes we poke
In the lids of our relationships.

If set free
We risk losing them
In the fading blossoms of autumn
(amid choices that were once ours)

Funny how bees (like our hopes)
Will dance to show where the pollen hides.
Will buzz from the beauty of a dew-jeweled meadow.
And give the cool of a petal’s shade
To a friend.
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Let me know your thoughts.
b.