Bee's Eye View Poem by Sonny Rainshine

And they call ME the busy one.
Look at him there,
thoughts buzzing
around his brain
like flies to carrion.

So superior,
assured that his enterprises
are more than mere
gathering of nectar
and making honey,
which he calls money.

Perpetually biting his own kind
with his barbed tongue
and war-like nature.

Flitting, flirting, flouncing
from one cup of calamity
to another, his smugness
smudging his chin
like dusty curry, like pollen,
stirring up the hive
of language, words fluttering
and cluttering up the air.

Oh, what a bother and a burden
that I and my brethren
are mandated with the duty
of rescuing him from his folly
now and then with a guided missile,
a strategically aimed sting
at a tender target.