VERSE:
D, Sr Mary Ellen Dougherty, S S N
SR. MARY ELLEN DOUGHERTY, S.S.N.D. THE HONEYCOMB This oak is absolute with winter. A harsh and unremitting storm has cleansed it of illusion. There remains, however, one fierce comfort for the...
...Are there inside this cluster of cells tunnels of honey and wax brooding combs and the corpse of a drone expelled in autumn to starve...
...Is there in a chamber safe from the margins of death, a queen remembering her nuptial flight, when she in rapid succession of mating on mate, saw each die in the act...
...In the remnants of an east coast hurricane I ask what kind of integrity sustains this honeycomb...
...At my window I recall the storm...
...There remains, however, one fierce comfort for the eye: a beehive, passive and suspect, attached to a debatable branch...
Vol. 102 • July 1975 • No. 8
