“We have fed you all for a thousand years,
And you hail us still unfed…” these
Stark words of the old Wobbly song
Still time enough now, a hundred years on.
But more so, for millennia more (now)
The tiny, winged workers diligently toil in field
And orchards, bring our good to fruit, fill tables
With all good things that grow, they serve
Like saints, suffer like martyrs and
Share like good anarchists do, or could,
This bond of food, of plenty, forges
Our connection across species and makes the
Gathering of tribes a glad thing.
Leave it to the Greeks! Those feisty defiers
Of Capital’s call to fall in line,
To debt and submission – not they!
But, they have named the bond of bees, who
Share knowledge and community with food,
Trophallaxis, from mouth to mouth, a kiss.
So we can also feed each other, as gardens
Grow, we will grow again,