nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

beekeeper

with 4 comments


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~

beekeeper

~

1.

~

bees smoke-drowsy   rag smoulders   swung slowly   protected thick

in net and cotton   wicking folds   into beeswax   candle flame

pours golden   through panes   in the honeycomb

streamers   sweet circles   sink into bread

~

hollows

yeast-filled

and honey

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2.

~

bee sting

unexpected

~

beekeeper

never flinches

~

flicks the bee

from his fingers

~

spit and mud

for a poultice

~

~

Published as: ‘beekeeper’, Canadian Stories 17 (95), February/March 2014

Copyright  2014   Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

March 19, 2014 at 7:03 am

4 Responses

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  1. I think the many bee stings I got under my cloths and in my hair never made me cry like this. My life with dad was not one of childish games but beekeeping, building, getting wood, leaning about vehicles …oh he left me so much more than most … But mostly unwavering love. I think he was proud of me. But I hope he knew how much I loved him. It was not the best son at the end but I was there when he died. Anyway this poem hit me like a ton of bricks. Not sure why.

    Like

    Stan Spavold ( junior)

    March 19, 2014 at 9:24 am

    • Hi. The poem was about Dad. I wanted to capture the calm of him moving through the hives. Glad it brought back memories. Dad was proud of you and you were his regular company in his last year. The writer in me is glad you liked the poem. Janie

      Like

      jane tims

      March 21, 2014 at 9:32 am

  2. Young boy wants to be with dad
    And Uncle
    Valley bee conferences with dad and Francis..listen to the stories
    Painstaking after school assembly of frames in basement workshop
    White brimmed hat and vail
    Start smoker to check hives for sickness, signs of swarm
    Moving hives from field to field
    One breaks we all pile out of bee filled van
    Then collection and extraction
    The sweet sticky mess
    Filling tubs with filtered honey
    Was the reward the dollar a tub selling door to door
    Was it that first bike from proceeds.
    Maybe
    But maybe memories, working and learning from a loving dad
    At 55 I can do so many things.
    Thanks dad.. I miss you so much

    Like

    Stan Spavold ( junior)

    March 19, 2014 at 9:17 am

    • Hi! Very nice tribute! I didn’t know many of these stories. I remember the honey centrifuge ‘walking’ across the kitchen floor. I thought perhaps we’d take a course and try beekeeping now we have more time, but the story about the bees escaping in the van makes me think twice. I still have a tub of Dad’s honey in the back of my fridge – just a smidgen left after all these years. Janie

      Like

      jane tims

      March 21, 2014 at 9:28 am


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