Like money and markets
he manages magic.
Enchanters’ enchantments
in nectar of insects
are secretly spinning
in slow swirling syrup
‘till Bees pluck the bundle
that’s broadcasting brightly.
Then drones drop the dollop
and dictate directions
of who comes to wear it
or wield the strange wonder.
Once hacked off the husk is
the hardened gold honey,
which gums up like glue
any glove that might grab if
hot-headed and hasty
the hand’s owner hurries.
For time is a trick that
can trim down all tension
and makes sure that monsters,
magicians and minstrels
don’t run off to ruckus
without rhyme or reason.
The Bees are just bagmen
but banking’s his business.
The interest of insects
is not the intention.
If shady or shiny
or shameful, just shopping.
So Fates tell him frankly
the friends from the foes. In
his den he defends those
devices from devils.
He may not be muscled
but might he does muster.
And only when okay
are oracles offered.
But Karma or Kismet
may carry a clause and
it’s best not to barter
The Bee Keeper’s bargain,
for power needs patience
possession can plunder.