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.