The Bee Catcher

Why do we condemn them, poor things, to this terrible fate?

A few stings, an annoying buzz around our food, and we set our traps.

The sweet smell of coca cola entices them,

draws them toward the opening in the bottom of the trap.

Once there they fly delightedly around the small supposed paradise,

anticipating a full meal of sugar.

But then they fly too low, realize too late that

There is no place to alight, other than in that beautiful dark liquid.

Caught now, they still hope.

Surely the goodness all around cannot bring with it their demise?

How we have tricked them, who merely sought to do the bidding of their Queen,

yet strayed too irritatingly into our human orbit.

Fly away, then, poor bees, you’ll find no harvest here - 

Certain doom awaits you at our breakfast table.