Sunday, April 22, 2007

Drought in the meadery

Silent Thriae

They’re called back to sweeter, darker places,
away from our quilts of tailor-made maize, triticale,
sorghum and soy. Hives empty as ruins, leaving just
enough honey so, drunk on that gold, we’ll forget
how to hum in the fields of the tripled bee-goddess.

The children of the Thriae are leaving us; no
good-bye note written by fallen corpses, they
have gone, in secret, to caverns full of wax.
The oracle is silent. Hordes, mining a fools' gold,
riddled how nature speaks herself: but she refused
to speak about the bees, and her queens, dimmed
as if lit by an eclipse, host no more dances.


Written after reading, and wondering about, about Colony Collapse Disorder. Revised a little a few times since last night.


annie said...

from hard science truths
ode to loss of golden light
our sad, sticky state

Anonymous said...

Happy Earth Day, indeed. A fine poem, though.

Reya Mellicker said...

Wow! What a tribute - what a poem! Thank you!

Reya Mellicker said...

May I publish this on my blog (with credit and link to you?)

Truly awesome, Lori.

chris miller said...

Just like Zenobia - these queens will serve The Man no more.

(and we won't either, will we?)

MjM said...

Mmmmmm. Mead.

Pod said...

how beautifully sad and haunting. this is brilliant lori. thank you

Steve Reed said...

Lori - Saw your poem on Reya's blog and came to check it out at its source. Sad and mysterious and wonderful.

Anonymous said...

This is lovely and so sad.