The bees work in the rain. Some climb
Into the orange of poppies, some
Into the blue and purple lavender.
So cold, so wet so late this year.
We have the Winter blues in June,
While elsewhere draught and fire say
The future's now. Do not begrudge the rain,
We whisper to our consciences, which will
Not hear. I dive into the weeding,
Get wet and chill and caked with mud.
But it's all right, as everything
From peonies to roses now
Is bursting into bright, and bees
Work in the rain and don't complain,
Must move the nectar now into the hives.
hans ostrom 2022
