The Bee’s Ballade

no anxious bee“The Bee’s Ballade”

Love’s mystery: communion of the bee.

With joy, his voice a welcoming alarm

for flowers. His madness filled with fealty

whose body, mind and soul relentless, swarm

mid flowers where his wings will do no harm.

Behold this busy thief; his game of bliss.

With kisses might the bumblebee inform

sweet love needs not a reason to exist!

Or, love is when we hear the call to sea.

With hope the sailor gathers in his arms

and ventures forth. By his own loyalty

protects, defends against the crushing storm.

The sea confronts and brings to him a mourn

which fractures all his soul with bare, bold fist.

Yet, spite of all that Ahab’s sea deforms,

sweet love needs not a reason to exist!

Oh, Love is like the stars, far-flung and free.

So bountiful their count that they disarm.

They blaze beyond our sight, bright symphony

with fiery heart, they yearn as well as form.

Yet, sucked into black holes that are not warm

they have a soul that’s cold yet they persist

as logical as love that’s arm-in-arm.

Sweet Love needs not a reason to exist.


The bee, the man, the star an endless psalm

that pushes all things, crazed, to ageless tryst

descends upon their knees in worship, calm.

Sweet Love needs not a reason to exist.

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Hannah Spuler

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