Telling the Bees

by Joan Leotta

Dear little creatures,

as I look out the window today

I send these thoughts to you—

may you be blessed on this, his day.

I have no hive to shroud

in mourning cloth so

I pour honey on my toast,

libation to our connection.

Take my love to him, my sweet boy.

On the day he was born,

this day, 37 years ago, I could not

taste honey—no food allowed before the birth—

yet I tasted of his sweetness when

I kissed his soft baby cheek

as they placed him on me

newly taken from my womb.

Now he rests and I know you visit

his place, tasting of the clover

flowers sprouting up among the green

where he was laid nigh 20 years ago.

Some people think that grief has a timeline

ending, they want no talk

of tears, time when he walked among the bees.

So, I greet you, dear ones,

honey sweet as he,

dear to me,

take the touch of my lips to him,

remind him that a mother’s love

is forever.

* * * * *

Joan Leotta is a writer and story performer whose poems have been published in a number of journals including Writing in a Woman's voice, Ekphrastic Review, Silver Birch, The Lake, and others. She often writes about her family, strong women, and food. She is fascinated with bees and their importance to human life.