Bumblebee Dreaming

As the light fades, the bumblebee settles into the last flower it will ever know—full, tired, and at peace. In that small, closing world, sleep or death are almost the same thing. Late October sun sinks low on the hill, Asters blooming purple by the old driveway still. Workers worn from summer, their wings are growing thin, Males born in August, know their days are wearing thin. Oh, bumblebee dreaming, on a bed of gold, Petals closing round you when the evening grows cold. Full of pollen and nectar, in the fading light, May your last sleep be peaceful, through the long autumn night. They come drifting lazy, two sometimes on one bloom, Resting tired bodies where the last sweetness looms. Stomachs full of comfort as the daylight slips away, Tomorrow might not find them, but they’ve had their day. Oh, bumblebee dreaming, on a bed of gold, Petals closing round you when the evening grows cold. Full of pollen and nectar, in the fading light, May your last sleep be peaceful, through the long autumn night. Flowers hold the warm sun, they’re warmer than the air, Little bodies trembling, but they find comfort there. Petals fold around them like a gentle mama’s arm, Familiar and kindly, safe from any harm. Antennae twitch so softly in that deep and shallow sleep, Dreaming of the clover fields and the nectar running deep. Replaying summer’s labours, the flowers and the sun, Even little bees get rest when their work is done. Oh, bumblebee dreaming, on a bed of gold, Petals closing round you when the evening grows cold. If a bee can feel wonder in this world that we roam, Then rest easy, little brother… you are going home.