Wild-Bees

I watched the wild bees,
Watering at the spring.
And when each one had finished,
They took off on the wing.

And went toward their hollow-tree,
To a hillside that was sunny.
Where many a cedar tree did stand,
And a hollow one...with honey.

In and out...they swarmed,
Young bees had multiplied.
And through the years,
Old bees had died.

Wild Flower Honey...
And as I went about.
Smoke turned back the bees,
In comb...we took the honey out.

Wild Bee Honey...black bees,
Treacherous...with their stinger tips.
For the bisquit...we take their honey,
And stand...and smack our lips.


E.P. 1908 - 1989