My son said, "Daddy, I want a bee hive."
I want the bees to fill my room." "The bees
Will sting you," was my reply. He said, "Please.
I want the bees to sting and fly and dive."
He didn't want the honey--bees alive
And filling up his room to sting his knees
And arms--not safe outside and in the trees--
But crawling on his walls when he'd arrive.
He made this odd request one morning drive
To Kindergarten--perhaps on the breeze
He saw a bee land lightly on a clover
And thought that no one ever should deprive
Themselves of such soft gentleness and ease
So, ignorant of pain, invites them over.