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Cover:Close-up of bee hive in East Sussex, England taken by author
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Apis Is Spoken Here
The bee caryatids hold up the bee maiden’s porch situated on high, like Mt. Olympus, overlooking rolling pastures and agricultural field. There two amphora hives Stamnos shaped – mark passageway threshold to edge of realms that contain all possibility all dualities connects portico to garden veranda to house air and earth gold and venom past and present one hive, Apollonian the other, Dionysian but don’t ask which is which.
Each hive, given an offering of quartz and gold returns love by expanding their mysterious metropolis with propolis. Harbingers of manna to come we sip our drinks and dine the hives so near they perfume every meal with a heady fragrance sweet enough to lure the sleeping bears of Europa.
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Dear Bees,
Make a beeline for the foxglove spire with its ultimate freckled trumpet, nearby is an equally waning stinkhorn where joyous flies converge. Did you not visit days ago? As I moved nearer to look a snake’s shadow slipped away into the dark understory territory beside the prickly holly which appears next in line to fruit. But you know this, don’t you? And know too in how many days the thistle will flower. Sing and dance for one another, you bossa nova bees zydeco bees tremolo bees synecdoche bees mbirra bees sing and dance for us all.
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In 29 BC Virgil Asked, What Makes the Cornfield Smile?
That which we cannot touch or own or use we sometimes fail to see/recognize as fellow travellers in the realm of love They may sting you god bless them or hover nearer to explore your beard; (So reminiscent of last spring’s swarming) it’s their choosing not ours
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Lynne Shapiro © 2020
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