BEEing Me
The smell of dew has always been my official alarm clock. It's right when the sun is warming up the earth. I throw my scrawny legs across the comb bed, they will need to be washed soon - the smell of honey never seems to escape no matter how many times they are cleaned.
I pull on my official uniform, enough can be said that while black is slimming, the yellow stripes do nothing for our form.
I rub my eyes, they all take a moment to adjust and stretch out my wings one last time before heading to the farm.
I see the queen has already laid the duties out for us - and I hurry about to make sure I get the best section on this rotation otherwise it could be a long day like yesterday.
We wait for the queen's order, and we are off.
As usual, it is breezily and beautiful. The smell of euphoria as I pick my favorites and spend a minute or two longer. But my body beckons me elsewhere, knowing the queen has her quota.
As the sun starts to sway into a dusky disposition, I head back to the farm and clock in my pull. Another day was completed. While it is not a considerably horrible solitude, the monotony sometimes grows wearisome.
Yes, I am the working body - but the queen will always have control over it.