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Bee
She sat nibbling
Perched on a flat pinnacle between forays
Strangely small silvery wings rode precariously upon her yellow back
Tethered in place with twine
And by her side was her bucket treasure trove
Of a thousand small shiny drops of generosity
Carefully collected
The harvest of a thousand excuse me’s
Then lunch was over
Antennae bobbed above her head as she stepped down
And buzzed away into the shopping crowd
poem
by
Mike Michaels
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