By J.J. Tindall
LITTLE WING
with thanks to the Chicago Honey Co-op (Tweet @Honeycoop)
A breeze full of angels,
a garden of mouthings,
the buzz of little wings
amid a squall of tears.
Like something
out of an Encyclopedia Britannica
classroom movie circa 1950 –
monaural, grey scale, slow mo.
Like something
out of a dream –
man-made bee hives
like little cathedrals
in the brush
behind Anderson-Shumaker,
the metal works along the old
CSX rail line, just west
of the Lotus Tunnel
at Central Avenue.
Attending, people in space suits,
like white “Space Odyssey” suits
(“Open the pod-bay doors,
HAL”).
Faceless white bishops
tend the swarming angels.
Was I William Shatner in
The Twilight Zone, the only one
seeing this crisp mirage
out the Blue Line window?!
Apparently the scrub is lush
with white sweet clover,
excellent forage for sharp,
black angels
“potent as kings
to father dynasties,”
who then fly
across the expressway
to Columbus Park,
gathering nectar
and distributing pollen,
angels of the breeze
blessing the blooms.
Then back to the hives –
The Mothership Connection-
to make the miracle
of honey,
fresh honey pouring
like molten steel.
And like most angels
these are endangered,
sweet black angels
threatened by
people, parasites
and pesticides.
And mythic creatures
of their own kind, like
Bumble-bee Wolves
and Vulture Bees who
regularly feast
on human tears.
It’s no dream, no classroom film,
no big-screen epic
or television serial.
It’s an Eden of scrub
amid the train lines
and gunfire,
a feast of tears
transcending the grunge,
a breeze full
of angels,
blessing the doom.
–
J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
–
More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on July 21, 2014