Honeytime Harvest Poem by Pat Kunisch

Voices mumbling
from the TV,
rambling on and on -
The ice is melting -
The world is failing -
Our jobs will all be gone.
Liberals want green – grass.
Conservatives want green – money.
The rest of us are just hoping for
a lucky jar of honey.
Hair-combed politicians
hop from left to right;
smiling, telling stories
to eliminate our plight.
In tailored suits with polished shoes
they sing ‘My Song’s the Best’.
Bees play tag around the hive -
no honey in this nest.

Discontent spreads far and wide
from village, town and city.
Big Brother lends a helping hand
and builds a Grand Committee -
to understand why bees buzz wild
and will not make their honey -
Is it the lack of green in grass or
the lack of green in money?

Voices mumbling
from the TV,
rambling on and on -
Gas lines are long -
Cars’ built wrong -
Food prices are soaring -
Stock market’s roaring -
Houses are empty -
Schools are a-plenty -
Lesson’s are learning -
Students are yearning
for a new revolution,
to bring a solution -
MAKE honey more sweeter
WITHOUT the beekeeper.

As the sun rises
so the sun sets,
and calendar pages flip over.
Jobseekers are filing -
Politicians are riling -
And Big Brother is Smiling -
OBESITY - has left the nest.

Voices mumbling
from the TV,
rambling on and on -
Smiling faces walk 50 paces
carrying jars in arms;
to houses that stood empty,
now filled with a million bees
and honeycombs of giant size
waiting to be seized.
Lean bodies much more nimble
with sticky spoons in hand,
they gather the sweetest harvest
that has spread throughout the land.