Poetry by Jim Nasium

The Keeper of the Bees

In a little town south of the equator
in the Andes many years ago
way out in the middle of no where
in a small town that I know
there's a man who keeps bees
in boxes outside in his yard
he collects honey from them
making a living in Colombia is hard

One day he invited me over
we sat on his porch and ate fruit
we drank some rare green wine
and we did a little toot
he asked me to give him a hand
said he had to make some money
every day about this time
he went out back to collect honey

I watched him walk up to boxes
surrounded by bees every where
he didn't have any gloves on
no protection at all, he didn't care
I said be careful they'll sting you
he said no these bees don't sting
I did another big blast of toot
my ears started to ring

The ganja tea with honey was delicious
his honey was golden and rich
I made arraignments to stay the night
outside it was as dark as pitch
stars that I saw in the sky
seemed to be spelling some thing out to me
I'm pretty sure what I read was
this is where you should be

I took a large gourd of the honey
with me when I left in the morn
the bee keeper was going into town
he was in his truck blowing the horn
I said my goodbyes to his family
then he and I were on our way
but that was many years ago
and to me then, just another day...

©2004 Jim Nasium

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