You know by now Apis mellifera
has deserted you, leaving beekeepers
befuddled and honeyless. But there’s a
French chef in Provence who’ll gladly reap your
dry buds for Massialot’s Crème brûlée.
You helped Magdalene wash the carpenter’s
feet. England’s virgin queen demanded aides
display your blossoms each day of the year.
I’d say your resumé’s solid. How kind
of you to share your scent worldwide through fields
and gardens, balms and perfumes. Now we find
you in potpourris, making the moth yield
when your team’s tossed in closets. A borough
woman nurtures your shoot by the window.
Roger Armbrust
July 17, 2008
