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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