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  • Aina Pilvi

The Hive

The hive buzzes with activity

Workers hover in the entrance

Electric buzz of noise

This is where the work is, they do their dance.


Chained to the need to complete tasks,

Bound by unnatural light

Dreaming of the great wide open,

the smell of a flower, the cool of the night.


Sedentary for many long hours

Life deteriorates over time

The joy that is stolen from the,

Made up for by tasting that lime.


Dreaming of weekends and sunshine

The worker bees hide in their hive

Serving their Queen for eternity

Their purpose for all of their lives.




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