The summer she was six

playing with her best friend

chasing things in the garden

she caught a bumble bee in a hollyhock flower -

a huge pink blossom furry with pollen

and this busy bee

wallowing deep in its throat.

 

She caught the bee with the hollyhock flower

folding the petals over its frantic buzzing

its writhing body -

a bold, successful capture.

How clever she was!

After gloating a bit she meant to let it go.

She always let creatures go.

 

The bee was big.

The flower was frail.

Oh, dear ... she learned a lot that day:

'Never catch a bee with flower petals!'

 

Its stinger jabbed through the silken prison

right into her thumb

and she hollered because it really hurt.

She flung her prize as far away as she could.

The bee flapped to freedom in mid-air

a crazy thing whizzing around

buzzing like a motor boat.

Through her tears

her sucking mouth

she was sure it was LAUGHING.

 

Her friend certainly was.

'Use a jar next time!

(You daft idiot hanging unsaid)

Only girls cry if they get stung.'

And that hurt more than the sting.

 

She stalked home highly miffed

and stayed mad until he came over later

with his roller skates and a piece of chocolate.

It didn't make sense to miss roller skating

so she said, 'OK, friends again.'

 

And she loved chocolate.

He knew that.

He was her best friend.

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas, Aug. , 2016