A droubble by Moonshine
Bees don't swarm at night. But that is what I can hear. Buzzing! Now I can see them from my chair on the porch, in the light from the lantern. There they are, hovering above the rhododendron bush!
The bush's buds haven't opened yet, so there are no flowers. I am aware of my shaking. My teeth are chattering and my palms are sweaty. Bumble bees. What the hell are they doing? I am glued to the chair, mesmerised by this monotonous buzzing sound.
I can't move even though I want to run far away.
Slowly the flowers open, petal by petal until they are full of the night air. Purple flowers. I can see the stars in the clear night sky but somehow they have lost their allure. The moon is nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden I hear a high-pitched humming and see a larger bumble bee in the middle of the swarm. It's got a crown on its head. It's the queen bee of course. I notice, then, that the other bees have blue Kansas overalls on, each with a tool hanging from their work belt. They are honey miners. I'm not scared any longer.