The bees are busy.
The two foots have gone out
for a well deserved break,
a night on the town
but the bees are busy
and have to say goodbye
to their queen.
The little bees implore
them not to leave.
Briefcases and empty honeypots
are grabbed by workers and they
leave by the little round front door
in search of more.
On a stump under a tropical tree
the beehive is perched.
The bees wait impatiently
humming a tune uniquely theirs.
One bee sets out for another day
in the glorious garden
he is lucky enough to call his own.
Dipping in the humidity like a living teabag,
He first visits the long legged flamingos who are
keen on the progress of the garden rose.
One flamingo is looking for his nose
lost amongst the petals.
Nearby a buddha precariously
balances on top of a swinging door
humming a mantra of his own which
have set three stones on edge.
The garden is awash and ahum
with eclectic bric a brac.
The bees are content in the knowledge
that, if they get thirsty, the two legged ones
will construct a water fountain hidden
underneath the trees just for them.