Bumbly Bee

Wrested from my writing by a drone which signified that I was not alone in its black and yellow jumper it had come fat and furry, bigger than my thumb it cruised around the room in lazy eights before it worked itself into a state against the window wings fizzed on the glass as fruitlessly it struggled to get past annoyed at every corner on inspection too close to even see it's own reflection the outside world all plainly in it's sight but out of reach, no this cannot be right it thought “the flowers in the garden I can see but cannot fly to them- how can this bee?” I pitied this paradox of aviation for being in a desperate situation it's compound eyes with panoramic view blind to the neighbouring window it flew through. “ I feel your pane” I told the frame inspector too knackered now to gather any nectar and went and fetched a beaker and some card then scooped it up, released it in the yard. We, too, in life in lazy circles go until whatever circumstances throw leaves us adrift, no chance of some release we thrash round for solutions, have no peace take on our problems close up, face to face instead of stepping back and giving space so we may then take in the wider view the answer is nearby what we should do so stop banging your head and then you'll see you won't need glass and card. Unlike the bee.