The bee buzzed and bumbled and struggled, to fly from a tiny pile of hay.
Unseen, the bee was awfully hidden,
from friends in blackberry flowers this fine day.
A bee’s life span for gathering honey is short with work to be done.
This bee strove for his freedom, despite being trapped and alone
Gently I stirred loose grass clippings, to open a way to early eve's light.
He climbed on the silver of garden fork's blades and buzzed a big bumblebee sigh.
Mr. Bumblebee, freed from his dry grassy trap,
to the blackberry flowers took flight.
As he struggled, did he know he was aging?
Was it instinct that he buzzed of his plight?
This bumblebee taught me a lesson, when aging is worrying me,
to just keep on busy and buzzing. Be just like a big bumblebee.
“None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.”
~ Henry David Thoreau
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