Bees

In honor of National Pollinator Month, I give you this poem.

My childhood summers brought butterflies

Endless sunshine and play in the garden.

It also brought bees.

They covered the flowering bushes

Clustered against the house

Where the water spigot was.

My job was to turn it off and on

But first I must run the gauntlet

Of the bees.

They buzz around my head

The threat of getting stung stopped

My foolish dive into that buggy place.

There were huge spiders

In the pyracanthus, but

Around the spigot

There were thousands

Millions

Billions and trillions of bees.

They were scarier

Than the bullies at school.

Mom was unimpressed.

They can smell your fear, you know

That's when they get excited and sting

Just walk in, turn the spigot and walk out.

Ha! Easy for her to say!

She watched from the window as

I stood there, defiant, should I obey her?

Or the bees?

I sucked in a breath and held it tight

Then charged blindly, my hand outstretched

Clenching the spigot and twisting it hard

Hearing the water erupt from the sprinkler

I retreated through the bees and into the spray

But drying off in the sunlight

I stood amazed at my  bravery.

It's true, bees don't sting

When I'm not afraid.

In fact, after all these years,

I don't really think

They even know I'm there.