...is a beautiful place but very dangerous…
At least that’s what the butterflies say…
The bees keep their secrets to themselves, unless they have some reason to share…
A river winds through it which carries all the voices of the garden and the forest beyond…
If you dangle your fingers in it, you just might hear them…
What the bees won’t tell you is that if you listen too long, you might just forget to stop…
And after a time, the vines will cover you over and when they flower you’ll become another pleasant place for someone to rest…
‘That’s the story the butterflies told you?’, she laughed.
‘They are like children around a campfire… always trying to scare themselves…’
‘But here you have walked a long way… you must be tired…’
‘Sit down next to the river… ‘
‘The water is sweet… you can taste it if you like…’
‘Unless you’re worried about the butterflies…’
photo: Bilder Echsen
I did overhear the bees(always conspiring) discussing the way the pond-of-changing seduces the tiny stars at night, capturing them, holding them still for long hours, slowly drinking their white-hot nectar. Buzzing with envy, but ever practical, they were wondered aloud if they could devise somekind of similar devise with their honeycombs. They drifted away before I could here the rest of their conversation. I wonder what they want to capture. Can you find out for me?