Summer's End Poem by Rebecca Leidner

What's troubling the bees?
Reports come back to the hive,
The messengers glum, nothing good,
No one feels like dancing:
Rain upon rain, drought, illness,
Famine.

Not like the old days when a bee
Could browse for hours among a million blossoms,
Come home all a-buzz from a day of prairie-making,
Drunk on sweet nectar,
The sunshine still dusting his wings.

What's killing the bees?
The world has changed, but they cannot.
Now in their silent, dreary chambers
The last ones mingle, disconsolate,
Dying of a broken heart.