The hive slept like Argus br its thousand eyes covered with bees. br The light as it fell through the neem tree br was a marine light, in which br yellow moths set sail br from one perforated shadow to another. br The hive was mystic, br a drugged mantra br with its dark syllables asleep. br As the afternoon wore on br the honey-thieves came br and smoked the bees out br and carved out a honey-laden br crescent for themselves br and left a lump of pocked wax behind. br The bees roamed the house, br too bewildered to sting the children. br At night they slept, clinging br to the tree fork, now scarred with burns. br Sparrows and squirrels, a bird br with a black crest and a red half-moon br for an eyelid bickered over br the waxed remains the next day. br Then with a drone of straining engines br the bees rose like a swarm of passions br from a dying heart, and left.