Edited and final:
I saw a little honeybee, flying near a tree.
He zoomed around in circles and landed on my knee.
You might scream or run away, or maybe you would freeze,
but I sat calmly as I watched and felt the evening breeze.
“Hello, young bee,” I said to him. “You’ve had a busy day.
It’s good that you can stop and rest. You’ve come a long, long way.
You’ve soared for miles through the air, for many days and hours,
collecting sticky pollen, while dancing with the flowers.”
His big eyes gazed into my own, and then he flew away.
I wondered if he’d fly around and come again someday?
I wondered if he flew through rain or felt the summer’s heat.
I wondered if he wove through cars while traveling down the street?
Does he stop to watch the children and pause his beating wings?
Does he listen to the music as a feathered sparrow sings?
The honeybee was out of sight, no longer could I see
my little friend who paused awhile to rest upon my knee.
But when I reached into my sack to grab a bite to eat,
between my sandwich was a spread of honey, smooth and sweet.
I realized a simple truth I hadn’t know before—
I gave the bee a chance to rest, but he gave me much more.
He gave me honey for my bread, I gave him space to be.
That was just enough for him, and it’s enough for me.
In production —
I saw a little bumblebee, flying high, up near a tree.
Soon he zoomed down toward me and landed here upon my knee.
You might scream, or run, or freeze, but I felt as calm as the evening breeze.
“Hello young bee,” I said quietly as he buzzed upon my knee.
He was resting, I could see, tired from his long journey.
Soaring miles through the sky, dancing along flowers as he flew by.
Collecting all that wondrous stuff, sticky pollen smooth and tough.
Bumblebee, buzzing bee, sitting here upon my knee. Soon he was looking up at me.
His big eyes gazed deep into my own, and then he was off and flying home.
I am left to wonder, where? How far he flew, from here to there?
A journey through wind and natural struggles, and cars and bikes, and playful bubbles.
Over hills and through lush green forests, a morning flight and an all-day chorus—of wings fluttering with such speed and need, in search for gold without greed.
I watched his journey through the sky, with a curious and patient eye.
For inside the bag there with me was a sandwich made with fresh honey.
I smiled to myself and nodded to the night—my bee no longer visible, out of sight.
But now I see something more, something I did not realize before.
That buzzing bumblebee that rested here upon my knee, gave me the honey nestled between this bread, spread so generously.
And all I did was allow him to rest a moment upon my knee.
I did not scream, or run, or freeze, for he just needed a perch at ease.
That little buzzing bumblebee that landed here and sat with me.
He gave me this honey, and I gave him space to be.
That was enough for him and it was enough for me.