Picnic

The dog was busily crunching

A few feet away on the bones thrown to her.

A nice patch of grass under an exotic tree had been found,

They had spread the food on the blanket

And had happily tucked in.

They had finished their picnic

The ruins of the meal were

Still openly displayed,

Their conversation desultory.

Although in the height of summer

The absence of pesky flies was remarked on

Upon which a bee zoomed on the chicken remains.

They tried to wave it away,

Being always nervous with bees around.

The bee whizzed back to the meat,

They swapped it away again,

The bee flew around them,

Dashed back to the chicken breast

And started to munch on it.

They gave up on swatting it

And simply wondered aloud

“Huh, Is this normal behavior for a bee?”

The bee continued to suck on the meat juices

They laughed when the bee did not answer.

L. Bailliet©

17/2/2012