Bee-lines, silk-thread tracers not
tangling, not weaving air
but straight to the sweet scent
carried wind-blown up the valley.
Time's streak, time's lapsed contrails,
eye-level or higher, more and more
gathering, sun-warmed, sun-driven,
hoards and hoarded, divvied, scrumming
one and one and oneby instinct
ravenous, thousands and thousands,
bobbing, probing the stacked white
hives, fragrant, glued, defended
by infidel or Saracen whose fierce
difference are queens of their making.