Here's a poem, a sonnet,  I wrote on Mother's Day a couple of years ago:


	Mother’s Day

I’m Mother to five hundred thousand bees,
With thirty thousand with me, still alive;
I’ve swarmed and changed my home now, twice, to please
My daughters, who thought somewhere else we’d thrive.
My old homes are not very far away:
One in a hive, the other in a tree.
My grandbees come and pester us each day:
They try to see what food they’ll get for free.
I know that, now I’m getting past my prime,
My daughters think they’ll try to supersede.
They have four scattered queen cells at this time.
The larvae they’ll with royal jelly feed:
For one of them I really must make way
Because I know this Mother’s had her day!

Chris

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