With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By the leafless trees of poplar,
Willow, oak and black acacia,
At the entrance of her tree hive
Banked along the Susquehanna,
In the pleasant winter morning,
Wings unfolded, all a-tremor,
A bee (a worker) fanned and waited.
The air was rich with expectation,
All the earth was cold but joyous –
Yuletide, Kwanza, times of gifting,
Lights and colors, food and singing –
As before her, through the sunshine
Passed the girls on cleansing flights,
Released for now from winter cluster,
Gleaming, humming in the sunlight.
Our worker bee was as a lighthouse,
Sending rays of home direction
Should a sister, in her rapture
Need an aisle of home-bent incense.
A female sanctum ( drones are gone)
Feasting on their horde of honey –
Rich and strong, as gifts from Magi :
gold and frankincense and myrrh –
The sentience of every worker
And, hereafter, for their savior,
Their source of life, esprit de corps,
Their genetic core for ever after –
Their mother queen, but not their ruler,
She is waiting for that signal –
Longer days and shorter darkness –
When once again the annual cycle :
Rebirth, expansion, and partition
Precedes the stores of amber honey –
And in this way does life continue.
As go the bees so go their keepers –
Hunkered down in winter climes,
Embracing hours of purple vapors,
Precious sights of sun at sunset,
In the purple mists of evening,
In the regions of the home-wind,
Of the northwest winds of Erie,
Of the southeast isles of Schuylkill
In the woods of Allegheny
Tioga, Pinchot and Bendigo,
In the long and somber evenings
Afore the beauty of the day-dawn
We share the warmth of hearth and fire
We share the music and the stories,
As, with bees, we wait in clusters
For the birth of this new season.
You whose hearts are fresh and simple
Who have faith in love and nature
Who believe that in all ages
Every human heart is human,
That in every bee and keeper
There are longings, yearnings, strivings
For a life of shared fulfillment.
All will add to our enchantment
To the pleasure of the season
For the beauty of the day-dawn
For the pleasure of the morning –
The beginnings of a new day.
Our Green Cathedral 