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Rising for flight, not ready yet to sleep.
Noble creature, in the absence of ignobility, what else.
Jostling for position, an existential need as night rolls in.
Hazardous foraging, resin stuck on its mouth.
Lined up for sleep, on their current favourite dying flower stem.
Around the old field of bees, now under a foot of wood chips, and new plantings. Remnants of the ancient orders survive, the ancient Orders of Bee.
Out of the wilding darkness they came, in swarms, in oh so ancient of days. To do the bidding of the Lord of the Earth, to set all of the flowers free.
Set to their task untiring, up with the rising of sun, to and fro through the day they would wander, til rest at last in the cradling peace of Thee.
At sleep or death, the little ones have a silent cry, of joy. To rest at last in the peace of Thee.
Whatever Thee may be ... :-)
Noble creature, in the absence of ignobility, what else.
Jostling for position, an existential need as night rolls in.
Hazardous foraging, resin stuck on its mouth.
Lined up for sleep, on their current favourite dying flower stem.
Around the old field of bees, now under a foot of wood chips, and new plantings. Remnants of the ancient orders survive, the ancient Orders of Bee.
Out of the wilding darkness they came, in swarms, in oh so ancient of days. To do the bidding of the Lord of the Earth, to set all of the flowers free.
Set to their task untiring, up with the rising of sun, to and fro through the day they would wander, til rest at last in the cradling peace of Thee.
At sleep or death, the little ones have a silent cry, of joy. To rest at last in the peace of Thee.
Whatever Thee may be ... :-)
A HAPPY PENTAX USER
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