Because Of his and his Brethren's Ways


United States
34° 10' 34.7016" N, 84° 17' 27.8736" W

is all he heard
when the ball of his
tennis shoe descended
upon amber wings that hummed between
the sprays of honeysuckles…
scratch his ears as his foot twists
from side to side.

But that was in the decades that were care-free:
When the flower children danced in the streets, or when
Madonna blossomed into a siren.
Now, in his later ages, he and his children hear no more amber wings,
They hear no crackles of bodies or scratches under their soles:
all that they see are empty sprays of gushing honeysuckles,
letting off their aroma to summon the amber armada. None came.
Just silence in the millennium.
Because of his and his brethren’s ways.



This poem is inspired to remind all of us that the honeybees are dying, as over 60% were wiped out this season alone. This alarming rate should be at the forefront of our politics: not oil or coal or natural gas or corporations, because without the honeybee, the world would die instantly

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