Swarming with the bees

The feeling of pink was in the sky, it was a bright afternoon, mildly cloudy, the sort that dreamiscle with strokes so that you know they’ve been handled. The sky seemed to pause at me, wink a little, nudge, dance, and mend me in light rays on this exact portion of the planet globe. A forest surrounding the Great Lakes has a town presently named Crandon. At these lower ends of the Canadian ranges, I became fused in place, town, time, past memory, sky color, wind butter, pressing heat, high summer, and frappe.

A bee lands on my the bubble top of my single use plastic drink, which wakes me up from the psycho emotional wave I’m documenting on my time space continuum. I resolve to keep tearing, but then bee suckers to the plastic and begins making all kinds of love to this lid. Bee went hard like they were sent here on a galactic mission from space to clear subatomic particles from dangering the likes of me. My scientific thought is to assume bee found a sugar patch. My childlike wonder asks if bee is somehow my Grama, becoming in the moments moment with me.

I have zero clue how that type of cameo works in the realm of energy, creation and death... Milky Ways which are beyond me but inside of me.

I watched bee do it to it patiently, but as my frappe turned latte in the sun I questioned if it could fly away?  Maybe bee was enjoying the ice sauna and saw me as a refuge before it made its way back into the forest, or to wherever its hive is.. maybe I was a refueling station for a weary bee doing the journey of fertilizing the ocean planet en colonial 2020. 

Getting up from the table, swirling the cup, walking up the block, crosswinds at the crosswalk, two blocks east... the bee remains: mission impossible. 

After the second block from the crosswalk, bee decides I’m next and leaps from the cup to my right hand. Bee began traveling over my knuckles, down my thumb’s spine, contouring down thru my wrist, sucker suckling like I am flower, my skin tickles with the sensation of their bee feet walking around.  

I started feeling flattered like “kissing me is all that bee was dreaming of”.. but I havent been stung by a bee in a minute and I’d rather not today.. i stop walking and reply, “umm, bee, oh no please, please. I’m so humbled by your love but really your affection is starting to make me uncomfortable...”  somewhere around here bee buzzed off into the away.

I’m remembering and seeing my grama’s love for me in a new maturity.