Honey

Camilla Nusbaum

Out the ice-glazed window 
I barely see the recent snowfall.
I hold a cup of Earl Grey. 

A small honeybee rests from exhaustion on the windowsill 
taking a glance up at me 
              barely moving. 

The hot tea singes the tip of my tongue 
a bit drips onto the windowsill next to the disheveled-looking bee. While he remains in his desperate manner 
                he quickly takes to that tea. 

As I watch, the snow blows off 
the grand apple tree. 
The now drunk bee waltzes closer in my direction. 
The season’s toll is not unnoticed. 

Did you know that it takes twelve bees to make a teaspoon of honey? 

Without flowers 
              now, what is a bee to do? 

While thoughts fill my head 
I forget the bee is still there. 
I want to help him 
            but how? 

Suddenly he takes flight 
buzzing around my head
like when a cartoon gets hit with an anvil I shout and swat. 
The bee stings me 
Now his life is over. 
          I pour a teaspoon of honey for my next cup of tea.