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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #1952251
A vision of life without the pollinators.
Soon…
...the bees will just become bedtime stories
about these beautiful,
floating creatures,
like mythos
we’ll pass on to our grandchildren,
as we recant the days
we let the juice of strawberries,
as big as our fists,
run down our faces in the warm sun.
….as they shiver
in the night,
squatting next to small fires,
amidst the swirling dusts
of the Great Thistle Barrens,
somewhere in a vapid wildness,
that was once sung of as ‘the fruited plains’.


END
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