Tidy Poet Poem by Douglas Scotney

As I dead-headed poppies just after dawn,
I was surprised
to be already accompanied by bees.
I put it down to the warmth of the morning
and bee-prediction of wind and rain.

I thought they'd be finished their harvest by nine.

The new flowers weren't open fully yet;
the bees were slightly impeded:
perhaps the pollen will last until ten.

'Whichever number,
an earlier than usual time, '
I crafted,
to tidy this poem with a rhyme.

P.S.8a.m. report:
a less furry, more wary, shiny-winged, puce-eyed bee,
an altogether sleeker bee,
in camera caught.