On an enclosure of bees in a honey store

The bee is not afraid of me, I know the butterfly. (Emily Dickinson) Busy as themselves, they bustle in explosion of hum and hive. Contained, less fearsome, they pattern out their piece of wall in splendour of black and Emperor’s yellow. Intricate weaving, a tight-packed fabric of sweetness and protection, this is nothing to startleContinue reading “On an enclosure of bees in a honey store”