The bees line the rim of the birdbath
Slaking their thirst on hot days
Hot days that repeat with the monotony
Of the seemingly endless folly
Of putting ourselves above nature
They fly low touching the water
Briefly testing it
Their legs roiling the surface a tiny breeze
Sending little waves crashing to the rim
That they line like cattle at a water trough
Some catch their wings and drown
In the surface tension of water’s vice grip
The hotter the day, the more dead bees
Floating tiny decomposing embryos
The bees drink
Right next to the corpses
Unconcerned, unaware of the
Graveyard that is their salvation
The water flecked with bits of feather
And bird droppings
Still they come to drink
Survival winning out over danger
Danger that only I see
I play bee lifeguard offering my finger
A lifesaving log that they grab
Without gratitude or knowledge
Of the god that intervened in their death
The miracle only apparent to me
I rejoice at the life saved
And return inside to my
Filtered water and air conditioning
Bees drowning now unseen
Their prayers unanswered
My self satisfaction undisturbed