In the crisp embrace of my russet leaf patch,
a Queen Bee reigns supreme, Her presence unmatched.
Her saintly swarm rustles me, yet I am blessed,
for She brings forth the chilly scent of ember rest.
There is no cause for fear, no reason to fret or cry,
Halloween's not yet here, nor is it time for goodbye.
Her unknown journey beckons me, a future long and gold,
that loosely flows with the autumn wind, Her tale yet untold.
The Queen Bee leads a life of independence rare,
surviving Winter snows with grace beyond compare.
And when Spring's greeted rebirth is gentle, slow, and sweet,
She will return in the Summer, then reap Fall complete.
I leave Her be; She is the amber light that will guide me,
I leave Her be; She is my symbol of recovery.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.