Cloud Honey

Somebody planted flowers

in the clouds. They bloomed
like fine sunrises. In squadrons
bees took off from every land
to fly up there. Later in the season,

bee hives rose like temples.
Honey drizzled down on us.
Sweet rain. Was it sticky,
golden brown, and sweet?
Was it problematic? Oh,
yes, oh yes it was indeed.

hans ostrom 2025

The Bees Are Baking

Bees inside my head wear gold aprons
because they're baking tiny tan cookies.
Of course they buzz.  It's how they talk.
They're speaking of their relationship
to time, of how they've been bees
again and again through the ages.

I ask them a question.  Horrified,
they vanish, leaving only the pollen
of their buzzing.  Oh, well.  Their
little bee kitchen smells warm.
I put all of their cookies, which taste
of you-guessed-it, on my tongue at
once because I'm suddenly quite hungry.


hans ostrom 2017