The little bees of wild colonies
are busy alongside their hive brethren,
dancing an airy labyrinth hiding
in plain sight from my eyes. The little flies
are lounging on the privet leaves; but where
the privet flowers? Bee dance can't see the few
remain like my eyes can in giant's brain
and so they strafe frustration, green-walled buzz.
Next year, I'll compromise, Bees and Flies,
cut back the hedge in June where we must play,
leave you the other half for your buffet.
