Bee food, he says,
you are.
Honey, food for bees.
Sweet, almost too
sticky.
You cling to the hive.
Home-body. You nourish.
Your nature, natural. Sometimes
you trade in your essence to help others.
Loyal, you are, and of
one mind.
Of one purpose, as the rain's reasons
are to fall and quench all
that lies beneath.
You are within reach
and beyond.
Mother Bee, Mother Sky.
Do you know your worth?
There is a sigh in the wind.
A silent nodding of your wimpled chin.
And a smile that fills your eyes.
Its not hard to be generous
when one is older,
one is wise.
Smiling in return,
I think, Little Bee,
you are a surprise.
Copyright March 1, 2013 All Rights Are Reserved By This Writer/Author
Melissa A Howells //Meloo from her Tilt-a-World
Melissa is Greek for Little Honey Bee. For the longest time as a child
I did not embrace my moniker. When I found out what it meant, that made it
easier. Melissa is also a flowering plant that bees are attracted to, and
hence, honey, must be made from its flowers. It is a plant/flower that
also has medicinal applications. A healing plant. Oh, there are so
many layers to this seemingly simply poem.