A bee,
Big enough to be fungoed into the outfield,
Cast its shadow on my deck,
Wings beating in a blur.
It hovered like a Sikorsky,
Darting within four feet of me...
Still short of menacing distance.
I neither retreated nor swatted
And we kept the threat level at Defcon 5,
Sensibly alert,
But not ready to enforce territorial ambitions...
For the bee, rights to a plant 
With a promising reservoir of nectar,
And, for me, having breakfast on the deck.
Neither of us moved precipitously enough
To startle the other,
So we forged a man-bee understanding, 
Allowing each of us our pleasures.