Golden Pollen Covered Bees

I remember the day I wrote the first line of this poem. After Jacob died, we had moved away from our little house out in the country in what is called the Kirk Community at the edge of Fayette County. However, my father-in-law still owned the place, and I had gone out there for some reason. I took a walk in the little 4 acre pasture and stretched out in the grass to look at the sky and just think about all that had gone on in our time there. The clover had grown pretty high and was in pretty big clumps about the pasture and every clump was alive with bumble bees and every bee was covered in golden pollen dust. I remember watching those golden, powdered bumble bees, and I remember the overwhelming sense of loss that swept over me. But as so often happened during those days, the Lord was gracious to send  rich images of the times I had enjoyed there with my children and especially Jacob.

I am not completely satisfied with this as an artistic work, but there has always been something appealing to me about that image of "golden, pollen covered bees". I hope you enjoy.

Golden, Pollen Covered Bees

Golden pollen, covered bees

Bend sweet blossoms to the leaves

Of the clover in the field,

Rousing there the memories

Of when my son rolled through those leaves

Of sweet clover in that field.

Our garden spot’s grown tall with weeds,

Their ripened heads bent low by seeds

Bowing in the summer’s sun

And waking there the memories

Of when my Jacob planted seeds

That strained up to that summer sun.

The golden, latent memories

Like pollen gathered by the bees

From sweet clover in the field

Are the thoughts that cling to me

Like the golden, pollen on the bees

Bending blossoms in the field.