While the bees sleep in Winter hibernation,

Safe in hive or nest, clustering around Queens,

Resting and dormant for the duration,

Huddled close, shivering to keep each other warm.

Sacred traditions, the wisdom of gold,

Weaved into honey gatherers' tales of old,

Whether honey, propolis, wax or wine,

Beekeepers are lauded through the history of time.

An ancient bee, petrified in Amber,

Preserved over millions of years,

No stranger to Earth, their dance lives on,

Threatened by pollution and the dangers of Man.

Our Indiginous friends worship the bee,

In honour of the goodness they bring,

Proficient pollinators, Nature's friend, 

Essential to life on which we depend.

To endanger our bees, is a thoughtless crime,

When Nature provides all we need and desire,

We do well to return to chemical-less times,

Where the Earth is pristine and bees can thrive.

by Sue Cartwright

Spiral Leaf