Kind of People

Flowers blossomed as times travel through low level hums. Time turned water into ice and my lovely daughter into earth; naturally so grateful for such time. Busy bees, pollinators of the year; eighty-five billion consecutive times in a row; both honey and bumble bees celebrate, together... No kind of man has discovered a better way to pollinate crops than the reigning pollinators of the year. Deep inside what limited jungle remains, some kind of man ties a white feather to hornet, so to seek. A long, dark, skinny finger points at the nest as the hives form a defense; the hornets quickly break the feather free, just moments too late—the hive has been made. A bamboo shoot is rigged with a clothe, bathed in ignition agent; true organic pesticide. Set ablaze, once steadily smoldering, a bamboo catapult is raised into perfect position to kill the queen and run off; the swarm—remnants left behind this tactical slaughter—tasty larvae delicacy for these kind of people. But these kind of people are rare; honorable kinfolk, kinds of people that civilized kind of people degradingly refer to as wild, third world beings. As man continues his rampage against time and earth—third world civilization would appear the more civilized life for all kinds of people; bees too.