So today was the first day of my March writing challenge. It’s the 1st of March (duh) getting closer to spring! Me and my husband had last week off which was a blessing of a coincidence as the weather was fantastic. It was a beautiful week of sunshine and warmth, pretending it’s summer, picnics and walks. Summer meadows, along with the prompt, were my main inspirations for this writing. Find full details of the challenge here.
Blush blades of lengthy green. I float in the fluffy grass. Splattered paint of pink and blue and orange flowers transform the field into artwork.
Rivers of turquoise flow overhead, the clearest skies. I put down my book and gaze into the meadow. Bumbles and blustering, a low hum of dancing bees. I watch, immersed in their world, where the strands of grass are skyscrapers and the flowers organic supermarkets. They go shopping, a one item list of nectar, an impulse buy of pollen. Our ecosystem in their sticky hands.
I pick up my rose lemonade, my nectar. And without intent I disturb theirs. No malice in my actions and no malice in theirs as they swarm to protect the gatherer I threatened. I fumble to move away and fall back onto my elbow. My elbow onto a bee. Its last action is to protect its family, it stings me, warding me off, warning me.
Deep pangs swell my skin, my first ever bee sting. It leaves a scar that I can only see in a mirror. No matter which way I twist or turn my scarred elbow eludes me. Another scar I can only feel forms in my heart, a memory of this summer day, the peace and community and spirit of the bees.
How beautiful it would be to belong like a bee.