Spoon

When I dig down

deep, deep into the honey

pot with my familiar silver spoon this

golden apian life sucks me under, and I am gilded

once more, in an amber arc, above perfect, pale

waxen cells, mid shafts of mhyrric light, my wings swing

back and forth in a mesmerising slow beat ,while below

beneath the curve of my bronzy back, a queen passes

the hours in high regal splendour as I fan her gently

in the treacly summer heat, and tempt her with

royal  jelly, thick as molasses, cool dew

to drink mined at dawn from a million

vivid blooms, until she swells

swarming with massive

fecund strength

and beats

down walls

to join me

high on

pulsing

waggle

dancing

air