thinking of what i might think if my head were a hive, or if i wore a hive from last year vacant. would i have the thoughts of vacated bees? would i have the muffled echo of the collective voice under leaf humus?  the life chambers softening with time and absence. would i hear the honeyed voice of flowers withered and life continuing under ground.

my head is a hive with thoughts of bees.  
my head is a hive of spectral bees.