a tin can with a leather lung. burlap or pine needles inside, lit and damped. one squeeze of the bellows sends a slow cool plume into the entrance of the hive.
the bees, smelling smoke, suspect a forest fire and immediately occupy themselves with the most rational response: they break their pheromone alarms, eat as much honey as they can hold, and stop attending to the intrusion at the door. this is mistaken for calm. it is in fact a profound and ancient distraction.
the bee-keeper uses it sparingly. too much smoke and the colony forgets where it was; too little and the veil earns its name. a smouldering rope of jute is the local kitchen recipe. the threshold bee reads the smoke as a memo and adjusts.
— packed it with rosemary stems by accident. the bees forgave me; the honey did not. — k.r.