Biddledee

Biddledee

Biddledee is a large, big black bee

Again, bobbing and weaving, alone I see

Who lives under some old withered leaves

By an old tree I planted, an oak... twenty-three.

He is a loner, free

Don’t you see... like me

No hive to keep

Like the honey bees.

Though they are his friends

Messages they send

About flower patches often

Seasons right to tend.

As my borage flowers come out

Every year by my house they shout

The best is here, no doubt

‘Biddledee, come about’.

And here I in sitting, in my old wicker chair

Surprised, I find him buzzing again, so very near

Know where he is heading, have no fear

He too my flowers buzzing by, I, with my beer.

Smiling, I toast him, Biddledee greets me

Flying by my head as he comes by, wild and free

I often wonder what he’s sees in me

An old codger musing, about a big ol’ black bee.

For you see, I am a loner too, free to be

Does he know he is a little, just a little, like me

No more job to work, no crowds to see

Just Biddledee and me…both flying free.

He in his feeding, I under my old hat

Musing about bees, from my own patio I sat

I wonder what he thinks about this, and I smile, oh that

An old man loving Nature, hey, thanks for the chat.