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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u00e2\u20ac\u00a8A random errand takes me
\npast a
\nrogue
\nfield
\nalight in Mustard Flowers.<\/p>\n
This boon of Flowers
\nis rare October fuel,
\na wonderland of pollen.
\nI hope
\nthe bees have found this flood of yellow
\ntoo.<\/p>\n
Into the blossoms I go
\nlistening across the wind
\nfor the telltale hum.
\nThere.
\nI hear them.
\nMy tribe.<\/p>\n
A less certain beeline,
\nhas brought me this gift;
\nto find
\nmy sisters in the bliss of an equal joy.<\/p>\n
Returning home,
\nI sit by the hives,
\nobserve the traffic,
\nand watch each bee depart,
\nsetting a course
\nthrough notched hills.
\nTheir trajectories tells me they head for the Mustard.
\nMy heart sings as each bee lifts off
\nin confident departure.<\/p>\n
My teachers.<\/p>\n
They live
\nnot for self or even queen but for
\nthis sure flight,
\nthis buzzing oneness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u00e2\u20ac\u00a8A random errand takes me past a rogue field alight in Mustard Flowers. This boon of Flowers is rare October fuel, a wonderland of pollen. I hope the bees have found this flood of yellow too. Into the blossoms I go listening across the wind for the telltale hum. There. I hear them. My tribe. … Continue reading Mustard Flowers<\/span>