Honey For Tea (Poetry)

The sun has coaxed shy bride-white blossoms out
now each one waits expectant on the tree
teased and chivvied by an idle breeze
but still no sight of any bridegroom bee.

Sweet and pure Spring spreads her petticoats
her nectared heart warmed through and on display
Nature’s church has decked fresh-woken boughs
to celebrate the season’s wedding day.

Yet silence reigns — no whirr of insect wings
the air hangs aching — hollow as a drum
the hours lengthen — promise wearing thin
no far-off buzz — no comfort-giving hum.

These virgin blossoms victims of an age
of war — too few striped suitors can survive
when Man exterminates because he can
the bees are dying — poisoned in the hive.

Those golden jars of summer on the shelf
will dwindle to a hazy memory
our fickle tongues encouraged to forget
we once had bread and honey for our tea.