First Contact

I want to know what bees are up to as they climb over each other. Their assembly appears to be a confused and even slightly panicked. They encrypt their communication with a meticulous dance. A growing number of us are convinced they speak. Were it not for honey, I do not think anyone could tolerate such a closed society amidst the traffic of overly curious minds. Do not think that it to be a jest when I raise the observation of a matrilineal colony of males sent to out by a queen to sample flowers. They zealously guard a concealed house of dessert. I do not understand erecting a fortress of sugars that draw an array of sniffing foragers which are wonderfully clawed and perfectly fanged. The wisdom behind a sacrificial sting is no more comprehensible the hexagonal apertures of their pass ways. It could be that kaleidoscope vision has sheered their perception to multiply exits and adversaries. One man takes the form of an army to meet with a fierce swarm. Perhaps they are simply composing the minutes of the day. Who can tell? They share one mind but fly as if drunken. Geese have learned formation. Yet this secretive kingdom has no school of motion. If they do not assimilate, our response should be interrogation by smoke. What do they know that bridges our harvest to their skullduggery? The concert of summertime buzz and hovering investigation should unnerve our security. We share communal space along side neighbors devoted to the long play. It would be prudent to forge a treaty before their hives do more than sweeten our drinks and inspire a variety of mascots.