Welcome to our new web site!

To give our readers a chance to experience all that our new website has to offer, we have made all content freely available, through August 1, 2019.

During this time, print and digital subscribers will not need to log in to view our stories or e-editions.

Bee Pasture

Posted

Bee Pasture

Here there is pasture for the sun struck bees;

Blue bee balm rooted deep among old stones,

Sweet white clover, wild hillside thyme,

Basswood blossoms, so much perfume to spare

It wastes on winds a half a mile away.

And, near old gardens, borage, pink and blue,

Calling the bees until the day of frost.

The old beehunter sets his bee box up

And searches for the treasure, the high hive

These flying herds have filled with honey,

Honey as wild and sweet as dim-remembered days

When a small boy ate sunshine and summer

Spread thickly on his crusty home-baked bread.

From Gridley’s anthology, “Journey from Red Hill.”

Comments

No comments on this story | Please log in to comment by clicking here
Please log in or register to add your comment