Gentle raps at the hive door.
A little wearied buzz
reverberates off honeyed wood as
Bertrund, the Human Resources wasp,
tidies papers detailing employee inductions.
Buzz Buzz, he says.
This translates into ‘Please enter’.
Removing tiny brown hat, Victor,
head of marketing,
floats in staccato over to beckoning chair.
Buzz Buzz, Victor laments.
This translates into ‘Bertrund, I have an issue. And it is a big one. This could sink the company. This could destroy all that we have built these last few years. We’ve had a good run, this nest, but the end times are on us.’
Bertrund blinks singularly,
then compounds it more,
shaking stingers and feelers with a shiver.
Buzz Buzz, he states.
This translates into ‘Victor, I know you are a worrywasp. You panic at the first feather of the month, you think every cloud or morning mist is a toxic cloud here to wipe us out. Yes, we are parasitic kids who eat their hosts and we are mean and lean and sully the good names of bees, but we have a role to play in this ballet of nature, this grand plate spinning act of the natural world. Are you sure this is not another one of these concerns?’
Victor’s head shakes as mandibles click,
wrapping legs round thorax and buzzing
a comforting hum.
Buzz Buzz, he says forcefully.
This translates into ‘Bertrund, I am being serious! I really mean it this time! I saw the spiders! I saw the spiders! The spiders of our doom! This garden has gone yellow and there are spiders in it and yellow garden spiders will be our end! We must make haste and leave and wrap up this fandango!’
Bertrund shuffles papers with a tired hum,
his day to day career not the nectar for which
he had been hoping.
Buzz Buzz, he ends the conversation.
This translates into ‘Victor. It’s Autumn. The yellow garden spider lives in the Americas and we are in the UK. Please go back to marketing.’
Victor buzzes nothing as he shakily flaps to feet,
bumping his petiole into honeyed wood
and sending scattered papers to uneven ground
as his wings flaps with dejection.
Betrund’s eyes roll
(for fifteen seconds, he always forgets)
as he gathers work for new starters and wishes
for just a single day,
what it must feel like to be a bee.