Up close, a humming. Constant
shimmer of wings for warmth.
All winter, they mass and vibrate,
proboscises tonguing reserves
of honey. This is the most
dangerous time for the hive. Already
the surrounding snow is littered
with carcasses. Survival is
in numbers. This hive he’s named
Clara, after his granddaughter.
Who will tell her, if they die?

Photo used under CC.