Formation bees

They have no eyes

So what’s the point

You may surmise

Well if bees declared

To turn all random

And fly around

With gay abandon

Then bees would be

And it’s a fact

A whirling, jiving

Cabaret act

Bees in straight lines

And bees in circles

Some going quite slow

While others hurtle

They’d be bruised bees

Quite black and blue

Not black and yellow

As is their due

So, as you see

While bees are blind

Formation bees

You’ll always find

They’ll stay quite tight

In two’s and three’s

While wafting gently

On the breeze.

Richard Lee   October 2006