When Beamish Bee lay down to rest, he was the most relaxed of bees,

On Autumn's grass. He saw the sun and shade, which mixed the leaves on trees.

He felt content, and saw no need to sting and make some tissue swollen,

When he was close to coloured petals, blessed with all his needs of pollen.

He drank his atmosphere like juice, and flew, as every bright bee does.

Then Heather Hornet came upon the Bee, and she began to buzz.

The female buzzing enervated Beamish, as her visage brightened

What he had come to like already. Now his every sense was heightened.

They buzzed sweet nothings in each other's ears, and shared the nicest things;

And paralleled their flights, from flower to flower, with such united wings.

Though known to like a cloudy day, the Bee was glad to find one sunny;

And Hornet loved the sweetness in the nature of her newfound "Honey."

Though pollen didn't make him sneeze, he felt the need for one "Achoo!"

When she asked, "Can we start on things that we and birds are said to do?"

He needed all the rites of passage meant to lead to something lasting;

Though he could not just leave the hook she'd put some effort into casting.

He buzzed, "More verses in this tale must, first of all, be fully played,

Or else there would not really be the truest love which could be made."

She asked, "Could you not break the rule, and then say 'sorry' to our Maker?"

He buzzed, "If I do that, I'd voice the false regrets of me-the-faker."

Unwilling to commit her life to him, and help him build a hive

They both could share; she tried to bend his will, and hoped he would survive.

For months she came and left his flowers, convinced she needed solo flying,

With interludes of broken rule; and Beamish felt the buzzing dying.

Eventually she brought an end to what she'd merely made a fling;

And Beamish needed quite a while, to heal from Heather's Hornet sting;

With comfort in the fact that, if he'd been her out-of-marriage lover,

Poor Beamish Bee might never have the means to help himself recover.