HONEY SONG
“The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;”
John Keats
On The Grasshopper And Cricket
“They’re singing the queenless song,” the old beekeeper said. He’s a tall, thin, cranky man who doesn’t appreciate fools. Once, he was a mathematics teacher, but the bees took him. These days he’s an angry swarm of advice, educated in too many things, and …