A suspenseful tale, tells a crow,
A raven listens,
A treasure to be found.
Fruits of the hunt,
Savored,
Riddles, solved.
Brass buttons, worn silk
Ribbon,
Seed pearls, and tiger’s eye.
*****
Thunder egg,
Cut. Lines in stone make a
Map
Embroidered millennia
Ago.
*****
Blue darters,
Ephemeral.
A cabin?
Deserted, occupied?
Ghosts of a hive,
Walls dripping with honey.
On a solitary hanger, a tattered
Calico
Dress. Cherry red, black velvet trim.
Curtains, pink dotted Swiss at
Windows.
New in appearance, but is this riddle a
Deceit?
Out back, a peach
Tree, its fruit
Ripened to perfection.
Just one bite of one,
Nectar filled. Rest left for
Apiary’s Ghosts.
The buzz of their haunt.
Their sting, pleasure, not
Pain.
*****
A girl, fifteen, Elinor, spends
Sunday afternoons there.
She reads.
Ghost Bees tell their true tales only to
Her.
And she reads to them,
Austen, Dickens, Flaubert, mysterious Christie for good
Measure.
For Elinor, the Ghost Bees haunt the torn
Dress, mend it. Add some silk, more soft velvet,
In the color of honey.
The ageless alchemy of
Apis Mellifera
Rebellious Hazelnuts 