The Old Man and the Bee

Not by Unrest Hummingway,

but by me,

purveyor of words

in sentences,

upon bees and birds,

in present, future,

and past tenses;

and, yes,

I am an old man,

and daily older grow,

in my life measured in years,

which is not a thing a bee would know.

And as a Mayfly counts every second

in its day-long life, is reckoned

beyond value,

and of immeasurable worth,

to travel in one day

from birth to the end;

so must a bee

conceive lots of mirth,

rejoice every friend,

and live every moment

with a song in its soul,

for tomorrow might not bring flowers

but a bell that will toll.


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