Little Friends

I've watched them through the lockdown busying before my eyes, they're not in isolation, wearing masks or sanitized. Bimbling or bumbling, dependent on their mood they all serve common purpose in their daily hunt for food. No need for great philosophy, just simply living lives, no great debates, no wars or hate, all happy in their hives. But now the Buddleias are brown, sunflowers droop their heads, no more long hours of Beesyness around the flower beds. As quickly as they came, they're gone, before Autumn's first frost, those simple little creatures, and without them- we'd be lost.