Hive your honey, little hummer.

poetry, summer, , ,

HARVEST HOME

The maples flare among the spruces
The bursting foxglove spills its juices
The gentian lift their sapphire fringes
On roadways rich with golden tinges

The waddling woodchucks fill their hampers
The deer mouse runs, the chipmunk scampers
The squirrels scurry, never stopping
For all they hear is apples dropping

And walnuts plumping fast and faster
The bee weighs down the purple aster
Yes, hive your honey, little hummer
The woods are waving: farewell summer!

– Arthur Guiterman

7 thoughts on “Hive your honey, little hummer.”

  7. Sweet! I do spend far too much time watching all the bees flitting from flower to flower these days. I always wonder if the blooms are still giving anything to them after a long summer. Does it take frost to end it? I understand so little about the supply of nectar left by October. It just seems like flowers would have lost their goodness by now, like a soda pop that’s lost its fizz.

    Liked by 1 person

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