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Local Focus – Global Reach

Posted by MFish

Of all the things that I see,
There is nothing like a Honey Bee.
A bee that toils for hours and hours,
While flying about to blossoms and flowers.
The packets on his tiny legs,
Accumulates the pollen that he drags,
From flower and blossom, flittering there
And returning to his hive, with great care.
The pollen is transformed into golden honey.
Late in the Fall, it will be sold for money.
The Honey Bee has something to dread
If it stings, it will soon be dead.
For unlike a Hornet or a Wasp
The bee's stinger is barbed and lost
When it stings to protect the hive
And the cost is it's life.

No central heat,
no central air.
Just an oil heater
in the living room,
that was only on
if there was company.
The living space
was in the kitchen
where the huge wood
stove was sitting.
The first chore,
in the morning,
was to remove the lid
with a tool,
put in paper
and wood, for fuel.
Touch the paper
with a match,
replace the lid,
open the draft
and soon the heat
was coming fast.
The stove was iron
with a big oven,
where pies and cakes
would be forth coming.
Some pots on the rear
flat top of the stove,
kept items quite warm,
almost all the day.
Potatoes, vegetables
some meat, would
go into those pots
to cook away,
until dinner time.
That's something I
recall, from long ago,
when life was simple
as we listened
to the radio.

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