TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Bees

Bees Buzzing, Fuzzing and Fading

Beautiful fuzziness going strong

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But not for long

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Fading fast

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They will not last

Please  act fast

and sign the petition below:

 http://act.credoaction.com/sign/syngenta_bees?nosig=1&t=1&akid=11795.2247563.eaCuKn


Bee in Dahlia

Click on link below for short article on the ongoing bee disaster…

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2012/jan/13/honeybee-problem-critical-point


New Life, Old Love

 

 

Tree skeletons

acquire accoutrements

each passing day

pale green regalia

not the deep green

of Summer when the

change in color

is so gradual

as to be imperceptible

nor the fleeting riot

of color of Fall

no, in Spring,

ephemeral  evanescent

slight light green

appears by the moment

right before my slow eyes

as I discern

shadows in the woods

a flash of white tail

deer fleet of foot

fly through the brush

dancing to the deep trill

of the wood frogs and

the echoing, haunted cries

of pileated woodpeckers

in the sudden density

of the fast-growing woods

inside the booming forest

whilst where I sit

at the edge of wood

bumble bees hum

and magically lift off

the teaming ground

and fly to the sky

where birds sing to mates

sweet songs of desire

in a crescendo of new life

as you have sung to me

for nearly thirty years

in an ever-changing

ever-growing love

whilst a breeze caresses

a newborn leaf

that tingles to its touch

as I thrill so very much

to the searching clasp

of your hand in mine

(As yet another killer, this time on the campus of Santa Barbara, California,  is identified as possibly having Asperger’s syndrome, I, as a Bipolar Aspie, offer this poem written to my Aspie husband for May 14, 2014, on the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary, to show that not all people with Asperger’s reach for a gun and are violent.)


My Former Life

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In my former life I was a bee.

Why else would I keep sticking my nose

into the private, pollinated parts of flowers?

In my former life I was a turtle.

Why else would I hunch my shoulders

into a seeming shell, my back a carapace

to shield me from a sometimes dangerous world?

In my former life I loved thee.

How else could I account for my “knowing” you

from before the first time we met,

 for “seeing” the you in your inner depths?

Some would say  I risk damnation

for a belief in reincarnation.

Yet this answer satisfies me on so many levels

and requities my thirst, quieting my myriad of questions

that the old belief system did not.

Unpopular in the west,

woven into the fabric of life in the east

in which I clothe myself,  sewn by a strong affinity,

a strange familiarity,

attraction mystifies.

Most of us cannot remember

the details of the other lives,

and are left with fractured fragments of the past

glistening like sea glass in our hands, on the seashores of our minds,

trying to piece together a picture

of a previous existence.

Love is timeless and mysterious

and though I dread the inevitable,

the loss of our life together

in this life,

I know we will be together again in the next and the next

ad infinitium

for something as sacrosanct as our love

is eternal.


The Intimate Intruder

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Je suis tres intime

avec les fleurs

I am very intimate

with the flowers

and fear I am intruding

into their secret

world of silent sensuality

visited by bees and butterflies

and other tiny creatures

seduced by their siren song

of quiet sexuality

seductive to all

who pause to peek

inside their blooms

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Dahlia Dreams

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Drunk with

the nectar of you,

I fall into your arms,

helplessly inebriated

and sweetened

by your Love.