My son lives in Australia and works with a honey producer. I always envisaged that the processing plant would be set among rolling hills filled with sunflowers and clover. But no, the unit is set in an industrial estate in the city of Brisbane. But the factory has dreams too…

February 2025

In realms of steel and concrete’s somber hue,
Where drones of industry their tasks pursue,
A honey plant, in grey estate confined,
Dreams of a world more gentle and refined.
No sterile walls, no hum of motors loud,
But fields of gold where sunlight breaks the cloud,
A canvas wide, where sunflowers proudly stand,
And clover’s sweet perfume enchants the land.
No forklift’s whine, no pallets stacked so high,
But buzzing bees ‘neath azure, boundless sky,
Their golden nectar gathered with delight,
From blossoms bathed in day’s enchanting light.
The air, no longer thick with factory’s breath,
But fragrant with the scent of life not death,
Of wildflowers blooming in a vibrant show,
Where butterflies on gentle breezes blow.
The honey flows, not through cold and metal pipes,
But nurtured by the sun’s warm, golden stripes,
A taste of summer, pure and sweet and bright,
A symphony of flavours pure delight.
Oh, honey plant, in dreams your spirit soars,
To fields of green, where nature’s beauty pours,
Maybe one day, your vision will take flight,
And find its home in sun-drenched, sweet delight.

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© Richard J Kirk, writing as Joseph R Mason – 2025

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