The kingdom of bees exist
Beside my house.
My next door neighbor’s painted white bee hive house-
With perfect bee shaped openings-
Keeps em coming and going all day-buzzing away, just being bees…
No doorbells, just a noisy but contained, withdrawing of wings,
Which causes an air-stir each time they enter. Today, two
Neon green chested
Hummingbirds suddenly join in, out of sheer
Curiosity I presume. They fly nearly into getting caught in my hair
In search of color and wonder
At the constant communion of those bees. Or maybe, yellow itself confuses them
As glory blinds our eyes at certain points of day.
A Cooper’s hawk overhead, in its way,
Can wait all day, hovering in circles, for one swoop at a Vole or mouse by dusk.
But in my house, the tiny generations of bees beside me
Making their honey as a by-product of being
Makes the land around me feel yellow
And communal today. I must get out and be near friends!
And gives me room to consider
How close to be
To things to know them well-like hummingbirds know color
Or bees one another
They the first kibbutz, they must be,
In the kingdom of bees.