(Earlier today)
As I write, a bee, seeking sanctuary from the cold March weather,
lands an inch from my pencil.
Keep writing.
He looks bit bedraggled; perhaps that’s what he thinks of me
though I’m probably too big to be seen.
I presume ‘He’ because it doesn’t look like a queen.
Up and down, he does a few press-ups, warming himself.
And off he goes,
looking no doubt for early dandelions or forsythia,
a rescue from this too early awakening.
Clearly not impressed by my writings.
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Lovely – especially the press-ups! 🙂
Thanks Libby, I love bees. For some reason they keep landing on me 🙂
Thanks Libby, I love bees. For some reason they keep landing on me 🙂.
(Sorry about the delay, I thought this had gone but it appears to have stuck in the out tray)
I love bees too. The one you described sounds like a typical specimen.
I think it was a white tailed bumble bee. A bit early but the sun will bring them out.
You must be sweet, that’s why they keep landing on you. I enjoyed this encounter. It has a very zen quality to it. I like bees too, but not wasps. I’m terrified of those!
That must be it, though I don’t look much like a rose. i used to hate wasps, my parents owned a fruit shop, then I studied them a bit and became fascinated instead.
Interesting visitor you had. Your poem is delightful.
Thank you, glad you like it. I have an affinity with bees though I’d make a dreadful bee keeper