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BEES
(With apologies
to Joyce Kilmer)
I think that I
shall never see
A bug more
frightening than
a bee.
A bee whose
stinger will
impose
Fierce pain to
arm or leg or
nose;
A bee whose
potent wretched
venom
Will torment
folks who get it
in 'em;
A bee that
always works for
hours
Purloining
nectar from our
flowers;
Upon whose head
reside five
eyes;
Who stabs its
victim and then
dies.
To me it seems a
little funny
That only bees
can make pure
honey.
Copyright ©
1996 Ruth Gillis
"Bees"
received a
Second Place
Award in the
September/October
1999 issue of Poets
at Work.
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