Our golden trumpets
Blessed by some
The frenzied bumbles
Who may hum
The refined sugar
That was left
Instead of the bounty
Of the bereft
How much we slaved
Collecting, we
Covered in adversity
Miracles they were the Bee
But now neglected
Commercially
Colony collapse
Tis said
Millions of us
Falling dead
Lost souls in your maelstrom where
A web of iniquitous and vile despair
As for bee keepers
None of you care
Even fewer appear aware
Driving us to dark despair
By your selfish
Want to share
Rex Tyler is a Poet, Campaigner, former owner of an organic shop of 30 years, and Public Speaker living in Berkhamsted, UK.