The Honey Bee
by Karen Schwartz

A honeybee once stung.
His fluttering was slow:
He caught me on my tongue.

His broken body hung,
Each wing refused the flow.
A honeybee once stung.

A meadowlark, he sung
The bumble’s tale of woe:
He caught me on my tongue.

With his wee body flung,
Where pink carnations grow:
A honeybee once stung.

Some nectar that bee’s slung,
Toward a nesting crow:
He caught me on my tongue.

The poison hurt my lung.
My body ceased to grow,
A honeybee once stung:
He caught me on my tongue



 

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