Oh, Honey
Today’s prose poem imparts how even the smallest contributions can create meaningful ripples.
Anyone who thinks they're too small to make a difference has never met the honeybee.—Anonymous
A single lamp casts a warm light, illuminating crumpled papers—those printed dreams that seem to linger, hesitant in the shadows, secrets waiting to be born.
She sits, fingers poised over keys—the hum of the world outside a distant echo—and wonders: can her words, small as they are, carry the weight of change? Each poem a petal, each story a small seed, fragile yet vibrant, falling to earth, yearning for roots.
She thinks of the honeybee, its tiny body, dancing between blooms, carrying life on gossamer wings. Does it ponder its purpose, wonder if the sweetness it gathers will ever be tasted, or if its labor will vanish like morning mist?
Her heart aches with questions. She recalls her friends’ laughter, their faces bright with joy, and how her words could lift them, like the first rays of dawn casting light on the weary.
Yet doubt weaves through her thoughts, questions like a persistent wind, tugging at her resolve. In a world vast and restless, do her scribbles matter? Can a single voice echo in the chambers of change, or is she just a fleeting shadow, lost in the chaos of a million stories?
Then she remembers, the way a single bee can stir a garden, the way it can turn silence into song. With renewed purpose, she types, her heart igniting with the truth: it is not the size of the voice but the passion that fuels it, the way it reaches out, touching lives, weaving connections, creating ripples that stretch beyond what she can see.
So she writes, her words a gentle hum, a call to bloom, a reminder that even the smallest beings can shape the world, one line, one heartbeat, one moment at a time.
Author's Note
I thought it might be fun to share a little peek into my writing process—particularly how I create some of my poems. While I don’t do this for all my writing, I enjoy using pen and paper because it helps me slow down and write with more intention.
My journals, pen, and bookmark with the Edith Wharton quote: There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
Some poems are born from thoughts jotted down in my journal. I started this poem a couple of months ago during a prolonged period of self-doubt. Then I read the anonymous honeybee quote and knew I had to write something based on those words.
I start by playing with words and phrases. For this one, I felt I needed to anchor it in a setting.
I usually type this out as a Substack post and schedule it a few weeks in advance. Of course, I reread and tweak sometimes up until a few minutes before it’s scheduled to go live.
Upcoming…
Open-ended flash fiction about a gift:
Enchanted Aisle, 17 May 2025
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