| Author: | Heath Rezabek | ISBN: | 9781452379647 |
| Publisher: | Heath Rezabek | Publication: | April 2, 2010 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Heath Rezabek |
| ISBN: | 9781452379647 |
| Publisher: | Heath Rezabek |
| Publication: | April 2, 2010 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
bees
I remember you saying that you were haunted by the buzzing of bees.
You knew the hives were long gone, the wood that had made them now junked and broken in the hollow, along with radiators and refrigerators and, somehow, a tractor; and when our searches turned up nothing, you insisted we build another.
I labored for weeks, and when the boxes were formed, you whitewashed them with a recipe learned from mother's mother. Standing to one side, watching you there flinging the brush at the walls of this thing as if it were a wild wolf you hoped to tame, I couldn't help but wonder where you would get the bees, and if when they came you would find in them the solace that you sought.
But the bees came and came. And the next season, we had honey, bursting the combs; and even through the canning, and even through long evenings when we both had grown sick of the sweetness of honey, you would pause and look up through screen doors, as if listening for a bell that I could never hear.
I am haunted by your hunger, for honey and its combs.
bees
I remember you saying that you were haunted by the buzzing of bees.
You knew the hives were long gone, the wood that had made them now junked and broken in the hollow, along with radiators and refrigerators and, somehow, a tractor; and when our searches turned up nothing, you insisted we build another.
I labored for weeks, and when the boxes were formed, you whitewashed them with a recipe learned from mother's mother. Standing to one side, watching you there flinging the brush at the walls of this thing as if it were a wild wolf you hoped to tame, I couldn't help but wonder where you would get the bees, and if when they came you would find in them the solace that you sought.
But the bees came and came. And the next season, we had honey, bursting the combs; and even through the canning, and even through long evenings when we both had grown sick of the sweetness of honey, you would pause and look up through screen doors, as if listening for a bell that I could never hear.
I am haunted by your hunger, for honey and its combs.
