The Honey of the Hive

My poem about becoming a grandfather

I love this poem about becoming a grandfather. I wrote it ten years ago and I tweak it from time to time. This version is the lastest and perhaps best. You can determine. The term, “Honey of the Hive” came to be in considering what was happening in me as I held, Caleb at nine pounds and fifteen ounces. He was a whopper. My heart felt like I had a whopper in it. I was bursting with the sweet joy of “flesh of my own flesh”. I was overjoyed with my new status in life. But more, I was on holy ground holding this baby boy. He was and still is the “honey of the hive.”

All my grandchildren are the honey of the hive and as I have tried to explain in the prose piece about renogitating the non-negotiables in life—all of us are the honey of the hive in coming to see ourselves as the ‘honey of the hive.’

No matter what we may think of ourselves—how hard it is to call ourselves the ‘honey of the hive,’ we must re-form our shaping and practice the gospel of accepting the truth about ourselves, no matter how wonderful it may be!