This is the scene: the floor joists
and siding swim with a swath
of honeybees. The guard bees
dip and dive like suicide bombers,
protecting queen and hive,
as the caw of the great-tailed grackle rings
like thunder down our chimney.
He puffs his chest, perched
on the edge of the world:
brimming with confidence,
he warns of his dominance,
asserting ownership over the branches
that creep onto our shingled roof,
the lower branches, the trunk below.
About the Poet
Brandon McQuade is the Poetry Editor at Montréal Writes. His poetry has been published in a number of literary magazines in the United States, Canada, Ireland and the United Kingdom. His debut chapbook, Bleeding Heart, was selected for publication by Kelsay Books, and is scheduled for print in summer 2021.