Solitary mother bee, who strikes out on her own.
makes her nest so carefully,
sprinkles it tenderly with coloured blooms:
blue, purple, yellow, pink.
She carefully lays her precious egg
in its tender bed,
then flies away.
When born, her daughter will do the same-
beautify a blossomy nest,
then fly into the blue.
Imprinted in instinct and cellular memory,
is our inner drive to give and nurture life,
in whatever manner is modeled by
the matriarchs of our tribe.
My feet, since childhood, have been rooted in
family, the nurturing of children,
my own and others'.
My nest has stayed full of growing children,
young adults, grandchildren,
and now great-grandchildren,
and there has been laughter,
and much joy.
But my heart, through the years,
has often contemplated the sky,
gazed beyond the distant horizon speculatively,
assessed the unknown landscape with longing.
Times, I felt the bones
at the base of my wings
begin to lift,
my feathers begin to flutter,
just a little.
The egg later hatches, eats the food Mama Bee left, spins a cocoon arund herself, goes to sleep for ten months, then awakens to weave her own beautifully coloured nest, in turn. Wow.
source: While Glaciers Slept, Being Human In a Time of Climate Change, by M. Jackson. A fantastic read.