Like paper burning up into folds, the hives cling to the stone.
What could be feral about such order?
The hexagons of honeycomb visible through the camera.
The riverbed sand different from the rock of the wall,
the thin gums growing out the scree up the gulch.
We are lucky it is winter, heat amps the hum into a drone,
and we are lucky it is dry, the caves and gully filling
if and when it rains. Someone says there are not many bees.
But at the cave mouth we look up and hear
the hum set back into rock, the bees
flying and settling in the limestone tubes near their queen.
At the other end of the caves – darkness,
someone has burnt a hive down to the ground.
The honeycomb black and thick like metal grating.
We can only imagine the motion, the noise,
a whole colony set loose against the sky.

Caitlin Maling

Caitlin Maling's latest collection is Border Crossing (2017).