When the bees left, ravished, diseased
by pesticides, made human skill,
their killing, with their meadows cropped,
was folly, man-made, honeytrap,
cash appeal of one-up-man-ship,
sting in the tale, unrecognised.
Community is how world grows,
the smallest worker, vital cog,
the most important duty done.
If leaders busy themselves thus,
protecting this holistic globe,
then all shall harvest as it blooms.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com