BEES

by Frank Hurley
referring to Joyce Kilmer's poem "Trees".

I think that I shall never see,
A poem as lovely as a tree.
So Kilmer wrote, but as for me,
I'd rather chose the honeybee.

You may well question such devotion,
That follows beekeepers ocean to ocean,
But this isn't just a silly notion,
For a bee is poetry in motion.

The way she flies among the flowers,
Working tirelessly, for endless hours,
Using almost magical powers,
To store sweet honey, in waxy towers.

A bee, that may in summer wear,
A crown of pollen in her hair,
Fertilizing crops without a care,
Her only enemy's the bear.

The more a beekeeper watches the more-he
Appreciates the hive in its wondrous glory,
Its countless cells built story on story,
For nursery, warehouse, and dormitory.

To make a poem about a tree,
Is a wonderful thing, most certainly,
Speeches are made by fools like me,
But only God, can make a bee.