THE BEE. The bee is drunk with honeyed dew In flowered colours a metallic dance A hitched stagger in shifting winds A flutter of smile in all that morass. Enterprises of hive now gone distant Structures and stimulations now left behind The queen and drones wishing gone astray For a sip of freedom and a new start. Aromatics grazed in a buzz of curse A soft cradled sun in a warm burst Rocking fragrance in the azured skies In liquefied reflections of droning highs.