Some weeks are harder than others.

Even as the night temperatures plunge towards freezing again,

my bees thrive and expand.

For me, nature in all her resilient generosity and reciprocity

is a testament to life.

Even when the powers of the world seem hell bent

on destroying all that we cherish as life.

Even as beauty, goodness and truth are offered up daily

on the altars of war and profiteering.

I offer a bee poem and prayer for times such as these….

(I have taken the liberty of using bees instead of birds for the first poem. I hope the authors will forgive me.)

I love to watch how bees

soar on the wind.

There appears to be such

little effort, yet such joy.

I want to become like a bee

and let my spirit soar

on the winds that are blowing through my life.

I will not be crushed against the rocks!

I will sense the rhythm, the

flow, and react accordingly.

I will trust my inner guide.

—Judith Garrett Garrison and Scott Shepherd, Prayers for Healing, ed. Maggie Oman(Berkeley, CA: Conan Press, 1977)226.

Beehive Source

Trellised womb

Mother of all beginnings

Hold me

Gather me

Feed me

With the honey-nectar

from the hive.

Nourished

I will sing

The Bee-song

The long-forgotten threnody

Of praise to thee.

—Anne Baring, Prayers for Healing, ed. Maggie Oman(Conari Press, Berkeley, CA, 1977)108.