Bees in Literature. SassafrasBeeFarm
To be honest, Sylvia Plath’s poetry has always made me slightly uncomfortable. I find it hard to think of her without a creepy feeling. I know, she was a tormented young woman but I feel the way I feel. Imagine, then, my cringe when I opened an email from James in which he excitedly shared with me a poem by a beekeeper named Sylvia Plath. I had no idea she ever kept bees. Here is a link to her beekeeping poetry and a well-written article about this time in her life: Sylvia Plath and the Bees
Wintering
This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife’s extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat’s eyes in the wine cellar,Wintering in a dark without window
At the heart of the house
Next to the last tenant’s rancid jam
And the bottles of…
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