echoes

stillness weighs
in autumn air
the echoed ghosts
of honey bees
the moon's reflection
broken not by blossoms
nor by leaves
sits heavy on the fog
circled neath
a wingless form
might cold keep him
anchored by the memory
of the hive
empty now of cursing
without regard for prayers
(too late)
where she remaining
queen (is still)
as sworn to honor
watches o'er sleeping soldiers
wherein her lust
swarms silent