How to Enchant Bees

You must surround yourself with lavender and eat nothing but fruit, drink nothing but red wine. Bees are attracted to purple and sweet scents, just like bears who break into bakeries to eat brownies and raccoons who roll in ecstasy in the trash left after a child’s birthday party in the park. You must never discuss mortality with bees—worker bees wear out their wings in mere weeks, their short summer lives ending well before dahlias bloom.

Cover your lawn in flattened cardboard boxes to kill the grass, then overwhelm that space with flowers, birdbaths, feeders, and shrubs, but leave a few small patches of dirt for bees who nest underground. Paint your house violet and buy blue cars. Park them outside in the driveway. Play “Flight of the Bumblebee” on a continuous loop.

You cannot control the spiders and birds, mites and canopied flies that harm bees, so you must trust your bees. You can do this—you did it with your kids when they left for college or married or moved across the planet for a great job.

Lastly, learn the dances of bees—when you communicate with others on their terms, you’ve gone beyond love and have entered the realm of enchantment. Wear your black leggings and a bright yellow shirt. Head to the middle of your garden yard. As you circle and twerk, waggle and weave in wavy figure 8s, the bees will notice. They will stop their obsessive work and soon you will hear the sound of buzzing, and it will get so raucous it will be all you can hear.

Mary Christine Delea, a native of Long Island, NY, now lives in a Portland, OR, suburb where she volunteers for various organizations. She's the author of 1 full-length book of poems and 3 chapbooks. Her Substack is Peeled Citrus Prompts and her website/blog is www.mchristinedelea.com.