Glorious, my bee friend! When I visited my son in North Carolina about a decade ago, I sat outside his four hives and listened to the coming and going of bees as they made bee poetry. The most thrilling was when they swarmed in a nearby tree and he let them gently fall from the branch into a new hive box--everyone calm, including the bees.
This year in the New York Finger Lakes, it rains and rains and rains. It feels like a comment on politics. We're drowning!! Bees are scarce, but I have Bluebirds in a nesting box outside my office window. I hope their parents were able to keep them dry in last night's pouring rain. In dry weather, they come and go from the nesting box in graceful Bluebird ballet.
I hope to hear the bees again soon, but neither the bees nor I love this cold wet weather. I wonder how they survive with so few flowers and so little pollen. How can they write their honeyed words in this weather?
Dear Elaine, your bee-autiful words always hum with such deep connection to the rhythms of nature, both Her abundance and Her challenges. The image of your son gently guiding that colony of bees into their new home is just awesome, a moment of grace and quiet harmony.
Your lingering rain feels heavy, like the sky itself is carrying something unresolved. Deep sigh. No wonder politics comes to mind! Yet, even in the downpours, the beloved bluebirds bring their own grace and blessings as delicate dancers in the storm. I hope their tiny wings stay strong, and that soon, the bees return and write their honeyed words once more. I miss your words so much and having been secretly hoping you'll find a way to share a little something.
Indeed, Mother Nature, ever resilient, finds ways to endure. Perhaps, even now, the bees are whispering their poetry in secret to each other, waiting for Father Sun to call them back. And the Monarchs too, to return to their Mama! I hope this week finds you and Disco well and that you'll be able to get back out on the trails again soon. All the love in my heart! ❤️
In childhood we called them humble bees, solitary, early and attentive, mindful for a home to begin again... Memory and celestial navigation integrate time, sky patterns subtly shift across the day. (Truly. I learned of what earnest science terms e-vectors when I first started my substack. Smile.)
What a beautiful reflection! I love the thought of 'humble bees', the passage of time and memories all weaving together. Like bees themselves, thank you Philip for carrying your quiet wisdom here. Hugely inspired by Jamie's latest post, I felt called once again to dance those unseen paths with poetry's pen.
Wow Deborah! Thank you for the poetic shout out! This community of kindred spirits inspires my poetry everyday! We write through each other. The sound of bees.
The scent of parchment and honey.
Folds of hood and cloak.
Ink rising.
Name of a bee!
Spilling poetry
into the palms of pages.
You Deborah Gregory. You the crone. You are a pollinator. You are a gift here on Substack. Relentless in your sharing. You showed up here and made it better. Pollen and ink. Heart and soul. You happen to people! Thank you for being a verb! You are a gift. Keep writing. We need you. Words have wings. Poems can fly. I’d even say poetry can save lives 🐝🙏❤️
Ah, Jamie, how you laid it all on poetry's table and I was divinely inspired! As I read your words and listened (as always!) to 'the sound of bees', the image of 'poet as bee' emerged. Cloaked in shadow and stardust, with planets and stars spinning around their head, I reached for my pen and watched a poem unfold before me. I knew then, I simply had to reply to you.
I don't know if there's a name for this act, when one poet answers another poet’s words, but here I am and I couldn’t be more thrilled that you enjoyed my prose. Thank you so much for all your kind and compassionate words. Indeed, poetry has saved my life more than once. 🐝🙏❤️
PS. As you know, I’m not a huge fan of AI art. But when this masterpiece appeared, I thought, hmm, why not? And there we are, 'poet as bee', surrounded by planets, stars and books.
"She is not writing. She is being written – between silence and sound, flight and gravity. There, and only there, a poem is born – spilled like nectar into the reader’s waiting palms, golden and whole."
Bees, the alchemist of wildflowers. Poetess, the alchemist of ink and pen. Each one has its own grace and its own gift.
I sit quietly on the porch under the breeze and hum of the fan, wondering, how did it come to be like this? A daily transformation, this glittering gratitude that is the touch of spirt, ancient and holy.
Your poems and weaving skills touch my heart. Thank you for this one. It ignites something and I find myself reaching . . .
Oh, Stephanie, the thought of you reaching for your pen fills me with joy! I love how we all inspire each other here in the 'Stack hive - wild alchemists, ink and light. There's plenty of poetic swooning happening here in the UK! Thank you so much for joining me in this waggle dance, on flight paths unseen, following your senses and weaving love into every word. If you haven't yet read Jamie's poem (and listened to his voice - truly one of the most poetic I've heard!), I wholeheartedly recommend doing so.
Wow! You're going to ab-soul-utely love it my lovely friend, and be forever inspired and write poem after poem after poem, ad infinitum! Well, I hope so.
They say you learn something every day. I didn't know until now that Deborah means 'bee'. How wonderfully apt. The poetry of your words come through you like the ancient dance of the hive. Lovely.
Thanks so much, Ralph. I only wish Lin had a beautiful photograph of a bee on a rose, but for now, this AI image of ‘poet as bee’ is keeping me amused. Here in the Substack hive, inspiration buzzes daily.
Early morning pre dawn here and I happen to be reading this propped up in bed — with my morning coffee laced with a heaped teaspoon of honey. 🐝 🍯
Your pen just pours poetry — silk 💚. Just beautiful. I love the melding of the worlds, given honey holds the light codes of existence — no wonder it is medicinal.
One of my favourite folk-rockers, Lucinda Williams, has a song called Honey Bee. It's a bit early for a bit of rock but now I am listening to it 🙌 🥰 🐝 💛. Might have to get up and dance in front of the fire 🤣 🎶 🔥
Thank you so much, Simone, for joining the waggle dance of life! It’s wonderful here in the 'Stack hive, where we all busy ourselves making sweet honey - both for ourselves and each other. As you know, Jamie’s words divinely inspired me. 🐝💛
Wow, I'd forgotten that honey holds the light codes of existence - no wonder poetry tastes so good to me. Now, it all makes sense! You know, I couldn’t think straight for two days after reading Jamie's 'The Sound of Bees' (always a clue!) until I got these words out. Scribbling a line here and there between clients, I felt something unfolding. And then in pure synchronicity, a 'metaphorical' bee flew into my therapy room and I spoke of 'pollen and ink' - pollinating each client in ways that amazed me. 🐝💛
How does the bees and poetry's, waggle dance work, I've no idea but I love its moves! 🐝💛
And on that note, I listened to Lucinda's 'Honey Bee' for a short while earlier before I felt my wife's eyes burning into my retina and her saying, hmm, it's a bit early for that! Ha-ha! I'll listen again later with my headphones on! 🤣🎶🔥
Hi Deborah, love being part of the hive. Pretty amazing, these connections and the writing. I am very grateful for this space; for the support we give each other. And the writing. The waggle dance, I guess we are all in synch with the light codes.🤣. Lucinda's Honey Bee, pretty full on, no wonder your wife was boring holes into you — perhaps a song for after dinner, with a few wines. 🤣 Have a great day with your honey bee 🐝 💛
Me too, I couldn't agree more, Simone. Lol, 'boring holes!' Yep, that’s exactly what was happening earlier today! Meanwhile, in a dramatic twist, I’ve cast off my hooded humble bee disguise today to reveal the poet lurking beneath. 🐝💛✒️
Are you talking about the stunning face looking out here in your profile picture? 😊 I haven't got my glasses on as I have tired dry eyes, so I just had to click on it. Bee — aut —i — ful 🐝 💚
Hahaha! Yep, that’s me in my therapy room. You might be able to see one of my wooden buddhas just behind me. The painting you can see is red with a golden sun - the colour of honey! 🙏🐝💛
This is gorgeous. I love the pollen/idea metaphor. I have been considering bees, not only in the garden, but also saw a large bumble bee crawling on the ground the other day which got my attention. It was one of those moments on a hike that seemed significant. We were in a dry spell and I wondered whether the bee was seeking water, so poured some nearby. Nope, the bee was not seeking water. Just getting my attention. I walked on. Within a short time I learned that a dear hiking friend of mine was near death (he died later that day). His daughter, Brittany, reached out to me with the news as a brief rain started to fall. To me, the bee, my friend, his daughter, the rain, all seemed connected.
And here is your post with this numinous language and imagery related to bees. And your own name. I had no idea that Deborah meant "bee". What a gift. Thank you.
Susan, your sweet words hum with such meaning, weaving together nature, memory and connection into something quietly sacred. That moment with the bee - so small, yet so significant - almost as if it was carrying a message, inviting you to pause, to listen, to be present. And then the rain, arriving just as Brittany reached out, like the world itself was marking her passing. My heart goes out to you during this deep relationship with grief and loss. I can't help but think of your father and what a challenge this year must be for you.
And I'm deeply moved by the ways you hold space for these signs, these unseen threads connecting us across time and place. Bees, rain, grief, love - it’s all intertwined in ways we may never fully understand, yet somehow, we feel the Truth of it. I call it the waggle dance of life - a quiet rhythm that guides us, unseen but deeply felt, leading us to one another in moments of loss, connection and wonder. Just as bees move in harmony, mapping invisible paths through the air, we too are drawn by instinct, love and the echoes of those who have touched our lives.
I'm so sorry for your loss. May your friend’s spirit linger in the quiet places, the hush before the rain, the flight of bees, the trails you walk. Sending love, warmth and gentle light.
Beautiful Deborah! How wonderful that the bee buzzes flying it's words, sprinkling the pollen throughout this community, the world and afar. From flower to flower, person to person.
I especially love these lines:
"As if summoned by the wings themselves, she remembers her name – Deborah, meaning ‘bee.’ Not suddenly, but wholly. She reaches for poetry’s pen, drawn to the hum and timeless stardust – the sound and sight of home." 💜. Thank you. xx
That's it exactly, Jo! From 'flower to flower, person to person', we help pollinate each other's words and worlds. And when it's playtime, the whole hive emerges before returning to our shared home. I was always the quiet child at school, the one who sat alone on the bench, watching. So, it's a joy to find myself in the heart of this beautiful game called life. 💜 xx
Mmm!! Queen Bee in training...waiting and, all the while, becoming the poem. Dipped over and over into pollen, alchemizing into the gorgeous words of dripping honey. Beautiful!! XO
Aww, that’s so lovely of you! Thanks, so much Danielle! Of course I was divinely inspired by Jamie. Hmm, Queen Bee in training? I’m buzzing with anticipation! Lol, now, where’s my crown? 👑🐝✒️😁
I think I’m going to rename you as The Bee Charmer such is your sweet, honeyed nature. Many thanks dear friend. I hope all’s well with you in your world. XO
I'm ready to sit in my own throne and just sip in the moments!! So looking forward to the end of this school year and just Bee-ing! Taking it one day at a time. XO
'Plum-tuckerd' I love that! Well, then it's time to pull up your throne and sip in those moments! Sometimes doing nothing is best. Yep, taking it one day at a time is best. Hopefully you've got some holiday during the summer. We finish here at the end of June then we're off travelling for most, if not all, of July. XO
The first few days of the month, my calendar was empty, but, as is standard with the final month of school, it filled up quickly. I am looking forward to that, knowing when it's all over, I'll miss the kids terribly.
Yep, as soon as the school year is over, I have many trips planned and a lot of Soul peppered in. So, naturally, I'm excited for all that, which makes it hard these last two weeks. Which calls for a day to day mindset.
Glorious, my bee friend! When I visited my son in North Carolina about a decade ago, I sat outside his four hives and listened to the coming and going of bees as they made bee poetry. The most thrilling was when they swarmed in a nearby tree and he let them gently fall from the branch into a new hive box--everyone calm, including the bees.
This year in the New York Finger Lakes, it rains and rains and rains. It feels like a comment on politics. We're drowning!! Bees are scarce, but I have Bluebirds in a nesting box outside my office window. I hope their parents were able to keep them dry in last night's pouring rain. In dry weather, they come and go from the nesting box in graceful Bluebird ballet.
I hope to hear the bees again soon, but neither the bees nor I love this cold wet weather. I wonder how they survive with so few flowers and so little pollen. How can they write their honeyed words in this weather?
Dear Elaine, your bee-autiful words always hum with such deep connection to the rhythms of nature, both Her abundance and Her challenges. The image of your son gently guiding that colony of bees into their new home is just awesome, a moment of grace and quiet harmony.
Your lingering rain feels heavy, like the sky itself is carrying something unresolved. Deep sigh. No wonder politics comes to mind! Yet, even in the downpours, the beloved bluebirds bring their own grace and blessings as delicate dancers in the storm. I hope their tiny wings stay strong, and that soon, the bees return and write their honeyed words once more. I miss your words so much and having been secretly hoping you'll find a way to share a little something.
Indeed, Mother Nature, ever resilient, finds ways to endure. Perhaps, even now, the bees are whispering their poetry in secret to each other, waiting for Father Sun to call them back. And the Monarchs too, to return to their Mama! I hope this week finds you and Disco well and that you'll be able to get back out on the trails again soon. All the love in my heart! ❤️
In childhood we called them humble bees, solitary, early and attentive, mindful for a home to begin again... Memory and celestial navigation integrate time, sky patterns subtly shift across the day. (Truly. I learned of what earnest science terms e-vectors when I first started my substack. Smile.)
What a beautiful reflection! I love the thought of 'humble bees', the passage of time and memories all weaving together. Like bees themselves, thank you Philip for carrying your quiet wisdom here. Hugely inspired by Jamie's latest post, I felt called once again to dance those unseen paths with poetry's pen.
Yes, Jamie inspires.
"Memory and celestial navigation integrate time, sky patterns subtly shift across the day"... love it, ty.
Wow Deborah! Thank you for the poetic shout out! This community of kindred spirits inspires my poetry everyday! We write through each other. The sound of bees.
The scent of parchment and honey.
Folds of hood and cloak.
Ink rising.
Name of a bee!
Spilling poetry
into the palms of pages.
You Deborah Gregory. You the crone. You are a pollinator. You are a gift here on Substack. Relentless in your sharing. You showed up here and made it better. Pollen and ink. Heart and soul. You happen to people! Thank you for being a verb! You are a gift. Keep writing. We need you. Words have wings. Poems can fly. I’d even say poetry can save lives 🐝🙏❤️
Ah, Jamie, how you laid it all on poetry's table and I was divinely inspired! As I read your words and listened (as always!) to 'the sound of bees', the image of 'poet as bee' emerged. Cloaked in shadow and stardust, with planets and stars spinning around their head, I reached for my pen and watched a poem unfold before me. I knew then, I simply had to reply to you.
I don't know if there's a name for this act, when one poet answers another poet’s words, but here I am and I couldn’t be more thrilled that you enjoyed my prose. Thank you so much for all your kind and compassionate words. Indeed, poetry has saved my life more than once. 🐝🙏❤️
PS. As you know, I’m not a huge fan of AI art. But when this masterpiece appeared, I thought, hmm, why not? And there we are, 'poet as bee', surrounded by planets, stars and books.
Keep inspiring! Thanks Deborah 🐝🙏❤️
Ditto, Dear Poet, ditto! 🐝🙏❤️
pollen of words, written in nectar of ink, preserved in propolis of the poet’s craft 💛 🙏 🐝
Just wonderful! I love how we all inspire each other and how your reply arrives in the form of a poem. Thanks so much, Veronika. 💛 🙏 🐝
"She is not writing. She is being written – between silence and sound, flight and gravity. There, and only there, a poem is born – spilled like nectar into the reader’s waiting palms, golden and whole."
Bees, the alchemist of wildflowers. Poetess, the alchemist of ink and pen. Each one has its own grace and its own gift.
I sit quietly on the porch under the breeze and hum of the fan, wondering, how did it come to be like this? A daily transformation, this glittering gratitude that is the touch of spirt, ancient and holy.
Your poems and weaving skills touch my heart. Thank you for this one. It ignites something and I find myself reaching . . .
Oh, Stephanie, the thought of you reaching for your pen fills me with joy! I love how we all inspire each other here in the 'Stack hive - wild alchemists, ink and light. There's plenty of poetic swooning happening here in the UK! Thank you so much for joining me in this waggle dance, on flight paths unseen, following your senses and weaving love into every word. If you haven't yet read Jamie's poem (and listened to his voice - truly one of the most poetic I've heard!), I wholeheartedly recommend doing so.
Thank you oh woman of many resources. My copy of The Alphamet Versus the Goddess arrived yesterday.
Wow! You're going to ab-soul-utely love it my lovely friend, and be forever inspired and write poem after poem after poem, ad infinitum! Well, I hope so.
I have a feeling I will ab-soul-utely love it. Thanks for telling me about it. A great cozy up book for the weekend!
They say you learn something every day. I didn't know until now that Deborah means 'bee'. How wonderfully apt. The poetry of your words come through you like the ancient dance of the hive. Lovely.
Thanks so much, Ralph. I only wish Lin had a beautiful photograph of a bee on a rose, but for now, this AI image of ‘poet as bee’ is keeping me amused. Here in the Substack hive, inspiration buzzes daily.
Hi Deborah,
Early morning pre dawn here and I happen to be reading this propped up in bed — with my morning coffee laced with a heaped teaspoon of honey. 🐝 🍯
Your pen just pours poetry — silk 💚. Just beautiful. I love the melding of the worlds, given honey holds the light codes of existence — no wonder it is medicinal.
One of my favourite folk-rockers, Lucinda Williams, has a song called Honey Bee. It's a bit early for a bit of rock but now I am listening to it 🙌 🥰 🐝 💛. Might have to get up and dance in front of the fire 🤣 🎶 🔥
Thank you so much, Simone, for joining the waggle dance of life! It’s wonderful here in the 'Stack hive, where we all busy ourselves making sweet honey - both for ourselves and each other. As you know, Jamie’s words divinely inspired me. 🐝💛
Wow, I'd forgotten that honey holds the light codes of existence - no wonder poetry tastes so good to me. Now, it all makes sense! You know, I couldn’t think straight for two days after reading Jamie's 'The Sound of Bees' (always a clue!) until I got these words out. Scribbling a line here and there between clients, I felt something unfolding. And then in pure synchronicity, a 'metaphorical' bee flew into my therapy room and I spoke of 'pollen and ink' - pollinating each client in ways that amazed me. 🐝💛
How does the bees and poetry's, waggle dance work, I've no idea but I love its moves! 🐝💛
And on that note, I listened to Lucinda's 'Honey Bee' for a short while earlier before I felt my wife's eyes burning into my retina and her saying, hmm, it's a bit early for that! Ha-ha! I'll listen again later with my headphones on! 🤣🎶🔥
Hi Deborah, love being part of the hive. Pretty amazing, these connections and the writing. I am very grateful for this space; for the support we give each other. And the writing. The waggle dance, I guess we are all in synch with the light codes.🤣. Lucinda's Honey Bee, pretty full on, no wonder your wife was boring holes into you — perhaps a song for after dinner, with a few wines. 🤣 Have a great day with your honey bee 🐝 💛
Me too, I couldn't agree more, Simone. Lol, 'boring holes!' Yep, that’s exactly what was happening earlier today! Meanwhile, in a dramatic twist, I’ve cast off my hooded humble bee disguise today to reveal the poet lurking beneath. 🐝💛✒️
Are you talking about the stunning face looking out here in your profile picture? 😊 I haven't got my glasses on as I have tired dry eyes, so I just had to click on it. Bee — aut —i — ful 🐝 💚
Hahaha! Yep, that’s me in my therapy room. You might be able to see one of my wooden buddhas just behind me. The painting you can see is red with a golden sun - the colour of honey! 🙏🐝💛
Yes, I can see it 💛. Your room must be a calm, inviting space 🙏
Yes, I can see it 😊. Your therapy room must be a calm space 💛
This is gorgeous. I love the pollen/idea metaphor. I have been considering bees, not only in the garden, but also saw a large bumble bee crawling on the ground the other day which got my attention. It was one of those moments on a hike that seemed significant. We were in a dry spell and I wondered whether the bee was seeking water, so poured some nearby. Nope, the bee was not seeking water. Just getting my attention. I walked on. Within a short time I learned that a dear hiking friend of mine was near death (he died later that day). His daughter, Brittany, reached out to me with the news as a brief rain started to fall. To me, the bee, my friend, his daughter, the rain, all seemed connected.
And here is your post with this numinous language and imagery related to bees. And your own name. I had no idea that Deborah meant "bee". What a gift. Thank you.
Susan, your sweet words hum with such meaning, weaving together nature, memory and connection into something quietly sacred. That moment with the bee - so small, yet so significant - almost as if it was carrying a message, inviting you to pause, to listen, to be present. And then the rain, arriving just as Brittany reached out, like the world itself was marking her passing. My heart goes out to you during this deep relationship with grief and loss. I can't help but think of your father and what a challenge this year must be for you.
And I'm deeply moved by the ways you hold space for these signs, these unseen threads connecting us across time and place. Bees, rain, grief, love - it’s all intertwined in ways we may never fully understand, yet somehow, we feel the Truth of it. I call it the waggle dance of life - a quiet rhythm that guides us, unseen but deeply felt, leading us to one another in moments of loss, connection and wonder. Just as bees move in harmony, mapping invisible paths through the air, we too are drawn by instinct, love and the echoes of those who have touched our lives.
I'm so sorry for your loss. May your friend’s spirit linger in the quiet places, the hush before the rain, the flight of bees, the trails you walk. Sending love, warmth and gentle light.
Beautiful Deborah! How wonderful that the bee buzzes flying it's words, sprinkling the pollen throughout this community, the world and afar. From flower to flower, person to person.
I especially love these lines:
"As if summoned by the wings themselves, she remembers her name – Deborah, meaning ‘bee.’ Not suddenly, but wholly. She reaches for poetry’s pen, drawn to the hum and timeless stardust – the sound and sight of home." 💜. Thank you. xx
That's it exactly, Jo! From 'flower to flower, person to person', we help pollinate each other's words and worlds. And when it's playtime, the whole hive emerges before returning to our shared home. I was always the quiet child at school, the one who sat alone on the bench, watching. So, it's a joy to find myself in the heart of this beautiful game called life. 💜 xx
🥰🥰🥰
Mmm!! Queen Bee in training...waiting and, all the while, becoming the poem. Dipped over and over into pollen, alchemizing into the gorgeous words of dripping honey. Beautiful!! XO
Aww, that’s so lovely of you! Thanks, so much Danielle! Of course I was divinely inspired by Jamie. Hmm, Queen Bee in training? I’m buzzing with anticipation! Lol, now, where’s my crown? 👑🐝✒️😁
Likely it will be fashioned of honey, flowers, and sprinkled with pollen. I have no doubt you will wield beautifully. XO
I think I’m going to rename you as The Bee Charmer such is your sweet, honeyed nature. Many thanks dear friend. I hope all’s well with you in your world. XO
The bee is probably one of my spirit animals 🤭
All is well. I'm just plum tuckered.
I'm ready to sit in my own throne and just sip in the moments!! So looking forward to the end of this school year and just Bee-ing! Taking it one day at a time. XO
'Plum-tuckerd' I love that! Well, then it's time to pull up your throne and sip in those moments! Sometimes doing nothing is best. Yep, taking it one day at a time is best. Hopefully you've got some holiday during the summer. We finish here at the end of June then we're off travelling for most, if not all, of July. XO
The first few days of the month, my calendar was empty, but, as is standard with the final month of school, it filled up quickly. I am looking forward to that, knowing when it's all over, I'll miss the kids terribly.
Yep, as soon as the school year is over, I have many trips planned and a lot of Soul peppered in. So, naturally, I'm excited for all that, which makes it hard these last two weeks. Which calls for a day to day mindset.
Yes, I am taking moments for myself, too. XO
Deborah, Jamie
Brilliant busy buzzing bees.
Cross-pollination!
Marisol, you have surpassed yourself! This ab-soul-utely brilliant. I love it! Thanks so much.