a poetry e-zine

 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Linda Troxler
Death of a Honeybee Worker

I went to the woods
in early November
to just breathe slowly
for a while.

When I first saw her,
she was clinging tenaciously
to a late aster bloom,
drawing the last bit of life-water,
but knowing she would never go back
to the hive.

I thought I heard sweet breath
as she executed her duty
to the very end.
Her body weary from weeks
of back and forth,
hurrying from bloom to bloom,
dripping sweet nectar
as she flew.

Determined to feed body and soul,
just not her own.

Giving so freely and unselfishly,
giving until she gripped
the autumn aster bloom,
where I saw her,
memories of the distant hive
fading as she drew
her last breath.

I could not stay.
There was supper to cook,
clothes to wash,
children to bathe,
a list of chores.

I left her there
in sweet misery.

She never heard me leave.



Linda Surratt Troxler teaches online composition and critical thinking classes for the University of Phoenix. She enjoys teaching and loves using language to create poems that are reflections of her own life. She remembers writing her first poems as a child, and poetry writing has been a passion for her ever since. She loves to write about family traditions, nature, and her childhood growing up in an agricultural South.
 

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