In my dream...
.....Lone, luminous.....Honey-toned stepping stone.
.....Around it buzz bees,
.....Many together as near a hive,
.....Each a different designer bee.
.....Some alight on glowing stone.
.....Others hover low and near-by
.....Buzzing a dance with purpose
.....I want to join.
Bees defy aerodynamic design
And fly fat bodies in face of
Scientifically declared impossibility,
Joyously confident of thin air's
Support for their dance.
Bee business is this buzzing dance.
A buzzing map
That points to fields filled with sweet flowers.
Movements say what buzz alone cannot:
.....I've found flowers.
.....Go this way, this far,
.....And you can find them too.
Bees, like ants, share
Loot and tell each other
Where to find it.
.....I’ve been here.
.....Where have you been?
But bees…
Bees take sweet nectar
Without disturbing flower
And manage in their process
To ensure flower’s rebirth.
Then they create
Not just fodder for their own rebirth
But ambrosia for the gods.
Ancients make mead
Imitating gods
And know they are as blessed…
By the bees.
__________
The dream I describe has given me the metaphor for my work. Indeed, before that dream my two perfect grandsons called me Nana B. After the dream, I became Nana Bee—the change in spelling giving voice to my purpose.
My purpose is always sharing my ideas. My background includes a BA in Art and a career in graphic design that has spanned the US, Australia and Canada. My own buzzing dance involves design, poetry and even tap dancing. This is the stuff of my creative life. I offer it as mead. Let's drink together!
Poem: Excerpt from Designer Bees, Toronto, 2001
