9/18/2026 for PIck-A-Title Vol 59 Poetry Contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Of nectar, I never sing. I only beat my wings. As long as I'm alive, I gather nectar for the hive. I toil for a bountiful nectar crop. I work until I drop. So the colony will thrive, I do it for the hive. Lo, I hear something strange. My brain begins to change. It is a flower's voice. She tells me I have choice. I never lived until I discovered I have free will. Now, in nectar, I rejoice, knowing I have choice.
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