to bee

In shade most of the year, infront of a curving wall

not quite road nor verge at tarmac's edge

a large fuscia bush drops stiff silk particoloured red and blue

flowers each Summer, then yellow leaves in Autumn

which, out of the roadsweeper's reach, rot

and in this scrape of possibility weeds sprout, soon

as sun can breach surrounding roofs and trees

only to be shrivelled on flowering by a man

spraying herbicide from the council. Till last  November

 

when frost came and the road was carpeted 

with crispy leaves, before the whirring moustache

of the roadsweeper sucked them up, I went out with a rake

(after noting when not many cars passed, or children

but even so a BMW driver stopped and kindly said through his window

"You don't have to do that, I'll get the council to sort it tomorrow!")

as I scraped them into rustly piles at the side. He didn't wait

for me to explain, drove off, so quickly I  carried on scrunching them

into an old washing-up bowl to take home, again, again

till the road was clear. And after a few weeks of rain 

when the pile of leaves was a sodden wadge 

that couldn't blow away, I forked them back into the bowl,

heavy now, and hefted them over to the place

by the wall. Inches deep but not enough, 

so went to the compost bin and hacked out rich brown sludge

of a year's potato peelings, breakfast eggshells, 

banana skins from hungry inbetweens, and WORMS

and worms

and

w o r m s!"

Around the edge with a sharp stone I scoured a ditch

wedged in a stegosaurus spine of fallen slates the shapes

of Maths problems - trapeziums, parrallolograms, rhomboids.

 

Then went inside to look at flowers on the computer, make lists

and lists and lists. Blissful till the cut of final choice

and waiting, in the darkest days till the parcel came

and inside there were little bags, an in them, brown

papery fists holding plans for crocus, muscari, alliums, camassia

that I'd never had anywhere to grow before. 

 

The first afternoon it didn't rain I poked holes in the (almost) mulch,

staying out till streetlight was embarrassing. My neighbour,

smiling, one day, offered me a paper bag of bulblets grown

from his own that his son had sent from America. I put them

where I thought would be sunniest. And waited

as the days grew lighter, for green noses to nudge up. He laughed

at my impatience. Then, it began! Crocuses. Higher, higher, buds

bigger, bigger, burst - Stained glass purple! Eggyolk yellow! HUGE! ​

Also the magical suprise of dainty cream crocuses

and bright narcissus, from my neighbour's gift.

One day I went out at lunchtime and they were all full of sun

but there were no bumblebees. It was too cold, or maybe 

they didn't know. Do bees dream? I waited. Spikes of green

muscari, buds swelled, split, BLUE intense, warm, glowing

but no bumblees. Then one day, walking back from shopping, 

there was one! Clinging onto a muscari flower. How far 

had it come? Finnicky as a jeweller, picking its way

from scented blue opening to opening itmoved on

to another flower. Following days there was another 

(or the same bee came for a second go) But only ever one.

 

I was  worried about the council man coming to spray

till one day my neighbour told me he saw him with the sprayer, looking

at the flowerbed, said "Don't!" and they were saved!

 

As the muscari went over, other leaves grew - which were camassia,

which alliums? I didn't know. Then one opened, blue! And soon

there was a bumblebee again. Then there were two!

Till last week allium sicculum shucked their whispy sheaths

and stripey pink and creamy bells made sheltering hollows

for a huge bumblebee. Yesterday there were two. Today three!

 

My son said "Why are you so happy, for such a small thing?"

but perhaps happiness, like size, is a point of view?

I can't fix climae change, or habitat loss, but this place

where we made earth useless,  now, Life can be

 

 

 

I think this evening there was a queen tree bumblebee a carder bee and two buff tailed bumblebess, but I could be wrong, as not sure tree bumblebees are here. Also 2 hoverflies

 

tanka 30th June "Beginnings and Endings" (IP)

bright silken bells and

petal platforms shiver with

ecstacy of bees;

watering in Summer dusk

seeds planted when Earth was still