Bee hives

On a breezy day

We diffidently

Climbed the hill

On top of which

Stood forlorn

The remnants of a cottage.

“Let’s go inside!”

The youngest cried

And I, more cautious

Eyed the broken roof

And grown-up practicality

Delayed the chance

That we might further go.

But ever closer drawn

We carefully trod

The scores of guardian nettles

Where once there was a lawn

And beat a wary path

Towards the door.

And as we neared

I thought I heard

A low but steady hum

Of which the others weren’t aware

Reassuring, yet of danger it forebode

And far we were from any road.

Once within the crumbling walls

The humming grew

And looking through

A broken window

To a hidden yard the other side

We spied a dozen hives

Absorbed in timeless industry.

The noise we now all recognised

And rooted to the spot

With studied nonchalance

We each looked inward on our fear

Ignorant of the ways of bees

Yet held firm by the wonder

Of this ancient sight and sound:

Watchers from another world. 

Without a word

We left. No debate

And naught to expiate.

Happy to have happened

On that secret place

Where we’ll return one day.

10^th XI 2007