Monday, May 3, 2021

"some joy I know not how to name"

"When the golden sun has driven winter back down
Under the earth and opened up the sky
With the radiance of summer, then the bees
Fly everywhere through all the groves and glades,
Gathering from the beautiful flowers and lightly
Imbibing from the surface of the streams.
It's thus that, motivated by some joy
I know not how to name, they go about
The caring for their offspring and their nests;
It's thus that artfully they make new wax
And shape and form and mold their clinging honey.
And so, when you look up and see the swarm,
Emancipated from the hive and floating
Up to the starry sky through the summer air,
Or when you wonder at the sight of a dark
Cloud carried along and drifting on the wind,
Take heed, for there they are, on the hunt for leafy
Shelter near sweet water.  There you should scatter
Scents as I prescribe -- melisphyllum
And the common healing herb that's known as beebread;
And let there be the sound of tinkling bells
And the cymbals of Cybele, the Mighty Mother.
The bees will settle, of themselves, upon
The scented settling places you've prepared,
And of themselves will hide themselves within
The inner recesses of their cradling home."

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