The Bee and the Snowdrop
(with a bow to Robert Frost)
Mild February days:
Spring sidles up to us,
In the roadside lane the snowdrop bows
To passers by, her multi-visored cap
Demure, screening her virgin secrets.
Here’s one who would explore –
That hidden chamber.
With clever limbs he clings
To her stem, and his dangerous fluff
Beckons in soft, striped splendour.
Invasive bumble bee,
As insistent as this spring day
Where you’re a stranger;
You look so fatly misplaced there
On that delicate green stalk,
An anachronism that strayed,
Bold, premature, into February
Whose frosts may still you – suddenly -
Advanced so far from summer.
On the other side of the world
The polar icecaps melt.
Still the bumble bee holds fast
To this white maiden of spring. February 1998