Bees

I often see things with an agricultural perspective. I am not much of a farmer, nor even a gardener, but growing things and the interrelationships between them all fascinates me. I could stare for hours at fields and trees, and divine the course of hidden streams by the poplar interruptions among the wheats and soy beans.

I wrote this poem this week:

Beekeepers

scarlet clover
sowed in October
in the orchard twice;
try and keep the hens out,
they pick every green leaf

and totally ignore
barley by the hellebore,
which grows now quite tall -
but what will the bees? eh?
when all the clover's gone?

comb honey
brings no money...
sez the Michigan Farmer;
but comb sales have been brisk...
all's left is candled junk...
and common sense for fools.

----
----
what will we do when clover is gone?
sometimes the powers that be predict disaster, but things go well, and we know that often they predict
limitless progress and wealth, and things go awry.

I do not believe that the best and brightest know what they are doing in this country.
The only things worth doing are ignored or disparaged, and we shall go the way of scarlet clover.
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