Tuesday, 2 October 2018

for sylvia plath and her bees

by Sister Lou Ella Hickman

january   the sunlight   sharp and thin
yet the bees believe
it is almost summer
and  usually    it is   almost summer here
until  it is  summer
the finger stubbed bottle brushes blush like fiery wine
where the bees work as if finding
a mother-load of california gold 
i think of you, sylvia, as i watch the whir of poetry
focused like the moment of death
which toils among the bristles
on this almost summer day

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