An apology to the Bees for whom I planted the wild flowers,
The barrage of colors intended to seduce you into the yard,
Lure you with scents and promises of more,
A pollenic paradise beyond the floral gate.

Tomatoes and peppers and gourds.
Flowering feasts to frenzy upon and carry home.
And to return again and again to the never ending bloom.

You braved the life-giving rains and suckled on the wild flowers,
Waiting for the paradise to find its form.
You took shelter from the downpour, vowed to return anther day.
You returned and were patient for the sun
To come and supercharge the inevitable bloom.

Rain, rain go away, the garden soil is still wet today.
My roots are cold and damp and my leaves have caught
A cold and need to summer in the country.
My blooms are late and weak, of their produce we dare not speak.

Dear departed bees, I see you have left for
Greener blooms I cannot produce.
Don’t think that I’m a tease, nor intend to miss-please.
Please come again next year, my little pollen fiends.
The skies will be clear and the blooms will be dear.
I will save them all for you, my little honey bees.