Poor Bee loved the hive! Poor Bee was no rebel. Poor Bee only wanted to fit in.
Poor Bee's biggest wish was to bumble along until he found the biggest, sweetest patch of clover in the world! Then Poor Bee would do his bee dance, to lead the other bees right to it. That was Poor Bee's dream!
But Poor Bee's bee dance was no good. Every time Poor Bee found a good wildflower patch, he would fly back and do his dance. But the other bees would all fly off in the wrong direction!
Poor Bee's dance was wrong. The other bees could not understand him. Poor Bee tried to explain. He flew right up to the other bees and tried to rub antenna, or buzz. But bees don't talk that way. No one understood Poor Bee!
Poor Bee kept trying. Poor Bee kept finding good flower patches, then coming back to the hive and doing his bee dance wrong. After four or ten times (bees don't count well in our kind of numbers), Poor Bee became very discouraged. The other bees did not get angry at Poor Bee, but Poor Bee knew the truth.
Poor Bee was no good to the hive.
Poor Bee flew away from the hive for the last time.
For two days, Poor Bee drifted on the wind, from flower patch to flower patch. Poor Bee really was good at finding flower patches! Poor Bee cursed his no-good bee dance, with bee curses. Bee curses are a dance too, but a different kind of dance that is not polite in bee society.
Each night Poor Bee was scared. Instead of his own cozy nook in the hive, Poor Bee slept between two cold stones! Or under a wet leaf. Poor Bee's sleep was no good without the drowsy hum of bee dreams, from the other bees packed in around him.
Each day Poor Bee tasted nectar from different flowers. But bees can't live like that, on pure nectar. Bees need processed food. They need honey from the hive!
By the third morning, Poor Bee had grown very weak.
Poor Bee wished he'd never left the hive. Poor Bee was so tired from not sleeping, and sick from not eating well.
Poor Bee wished he was strong enough to fly all the way back home.
Poor Bee wished his no-good bee dance was good.
Poor Bee crawled up a flower stalk, and took off one last time.
And then a minute later - he saw it!
It was the biggest, sweetest patch of clover in the world. It was the flower patch he had always dreamed of finding. Poor Bee had to leave the hive, and travel days and days, to finally find what he had always wished for!
Poor Bee settled onto the biggest bloom of clover he had ever seen, and he nestled his little bee body into the thick, sweet clover petals. Then Poor Bee slept, one last time.
His dreams were sweet.
Poor Bee's biggest wish was to bumble along until he found the biggest, sweetest patch of clover in the world! Then Poor Bee would do his bee dance, to lead the other bees right to it. That was Poor Bee's dream!
But Poor Bee's bee dance was no good. Every time Poor Bee found a good wildflower patch, he would fly back and do his dance. But the other bees would all fly off in the wrong direction!
Poor Bee's dance was wrong. The other bees could not understand him. Poor Bee tried to explain. He flew right up to the other bees and tried to rub antenna, or buzz. But bees don't talk that way. No one understood Poor Bee!
Poor Bee kept trying. Poor Bee kept finding good flower patches, then coming back to the hive and doing his bee dance wrong. After four or ten times (bees don't count well in our kind of numbers), Poor Bee became very discouraged. The other bees did not get angry at Poor Bee, but Poor Bee knew the truth.
Poor Bee was no good to the hive.
Poor Bee flew away from the hive for the last time.
For two days, Poor Bee drifted on the wind, from flower patch to flower patch. Poor Bee really was good at finding flower patches! Poor Bee cursed his no-good bee dance, with bee curses. Bee curses are a dance too, but a different kind of dance that is not polite in bee society.
Each night Poor Bee was scared. Instead of his own cozy nook in the hive, Poor Bee slept between two cold stones! Or under a wet leaf. Poor Bee's sleep was no good without the drowsy hum of bee dreams, from the other bees packed in around him.
Each day Poor Bee tasted nectar from different flowers. But bees can't live like that, on pure nectar. Bees need processed food. They need honey from the hive!
By the third morning, Poor Bee had grown very weak.
Poor Bee wished he'd never left the hive. Poor Bee was so tired from not sleeping, and sick from not eating well.
Poor Bee wished he was strong enough to fly all the way back home.
Poor Bee wished his no-good bee dance was good.
Poor Bee crawled up a flower stalk, and took off one last time.
And then a minute later - he saw it!
It was the biggest, sweetest patch of clover in the world. It was the flower patch he had always dreamed of finding. Poor Bee had to leave the hive, and travel days and days, to finally find what he had always wished for!
Poor Bee settled onto the biggest bloom of clover he had ever seen, and he nestled his little bee body into the thick, sweet clover petals. Then Poor Bee slept, one last time.
His dreams were sweet.
Comments
You know what, this is why I hate writing stories! I didn't want this one to be sad. It just...got away from me. Further and further away. I had no idea where it was going, and by the time Poor Bee got all the way out there, there was no way to bring him back.
Poor Bee.
I'm like, the least omniscient author there is.