Sitting on the step down from my kitchen you get a great view of the back garden. Spring having recently arrived, we now have buzzing visitors. This poem's written about one such visitor.
Buzzing bee
What must it be like
To roam round my garden all day
Noisily making your way.
Visiting flowers
Like stops on the bus
Why don't you come visit us?
Buzzing your way through
The hedges and grass
Adding a flavour of class
To the yellow and purple
That grows on my lawn
Working to sunset from dawn
always the worker
You don't seem to stop
Except when the rain comes down,
plip, plop,
And away to your hive
You are gone in a buzz
Orange and black,
All covered in fuzz
Buzzing bee,
Why don't you come visit us?
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