The Bee Poem by Douglas McClarty

The field was a park, without trees or flowers
I would climb our garden fence to enter
I always loved the smell of fresh cut grass
After the scythe men finished their task
In summer we built haystacks and huts
Hours could pass playing on these sunny days

It's was on one of these, that I heard a sound
I saw this boy go round and round and round
Holding a long cord attached to, I thought a bee
Only it buzzed louder than any I heard or could see
So my friends and me went timorously to have a look

It was a thing attached to string flying around and high
The boy who owned it was attached by lines to this bee
It went up, down and around but finally hit the ground.
We all rushed with the boy to see if the bee was okay
It was silent as it lay on the ground I was sure it was dead.

My spitfires broke I heard the boy choke, but it will fly again
A little glue is all it needs, tomorrow it will look like new
From that day I was hooked, I wanted my own flying bee
So for months I saved my pennies, until that special day
When I became like that boy, flying my own model bee
In the that special field, around the summer hay.