The Bees

Our garden is alive with bees at the moment so when I stumbled upon Carol Ann Duffy's poem, Virgil's Bees, it struck a chord.

Virgil’s Bees 

Bless air’s gift of sweetness, honey
from the bees, inspired by clover,
marigold, eucalyptus, thyme,
the hundred perfumes of the wind.
Bless the beekeeper

who chooses for her hives
a site near water, violet beds, no yew,
no echo. Let the light lilt, leak, green
or gold, pigment for queens,
and joy be inexplicable but there
in harmony of willowherb and stream,
of summer heat and breeze,

each bee’s body
at its brilliant flower, lover-stunned,
strumming on fragrance, smitten.

For this,
let gardens grow, where beelines end,
sighing in roses, saffron blooms, buddleia;
where bees pray on their knees, sing, praise
in pear trees, plum trees; bees
are the batteries of orchards, gardens, guard them.

Carol Ann Duffy, The Bees

I'm not a great Duffy fan but this poem is really evocative of Gerard Manley Hopkins, one of my favourite poets, so, maybe I need to rethink....