Beestorm in West Middlesex

He sat in the solemn office.

It was a poem about bees.

The room was silent and the air

full of unwritten thunder.

 

It was a poem about bees.

The room was silent and the air

full of unwritten thunder.

The bees exploded on the window-pane.

 

The room was silent and the air

full of unwritten thunder.

The bees exploded on the window-pane,

a living wreath around the trees.

 

Full of unwritten thunder,

the bees exploded on the window-pane,

a living wreath around the trees,

which then dispersed like memories.

 

The bees exploded on the window-pane,

a living wreath around the trees,

which then dispersed like memories.

He sat in the solemn office.

 

It was a poem about bees.

from Blizzards (Faber, 1996), ? Matthew Francis 1996, used by permission of the author and the publisher

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