Being a bee                                                        Being a bee
                                                                                        is a joy



is a pain.

                                                                                         I’m a queen

I’m a worker
I”ll gladly explain
                                                                                          I”ll gladly explain
                                                                                         Upon rising, I’m fed
                                                                                          by my royal attendants

I’ m up at dawn, guarding
the hive’s narrow entrance

                                                                                          I’m bathed

then I take out 
the hive’s morning trash
                                                                                         then I’m groomed.

Then I put in an hour
making wax,
without two minute’s time
to sit still and relax.

                                                                                          The rest of my day is 
                                                                                          quite simply set forth:

Then I might collect nectar 
from the field
three miles north

                                                                                          I lay eggs

Or perhaps I'm on 
larval detail.

                                                                                           By the hundred.

feeding grubs 
in their cells, 
wishing I were still 
helpless and pale.

                                                                                            I'm loved and I'm lauded
                                                                                            I'm outranked by none.

Then I pack combs with 
pollen — not my idea of fun.

                                                                                             When I've done 
                                                                                             enough laying

Then weary I strive

                                                                                              I retire

To patch any cracks I
n the hive.

Then I build some new cells 
slaving away at 
enlarging this Hell, 
dreading the sight 
of another sunrise, 
wondering why we don't 
all unionize.

Truly a bee's is                                                     Truly a bee's is 
the worst                                                                  the best
 of all lives.                                                                of all lives.