Out In The Cold

Storm Barra was building, the rain growing heavier, the wind beginning to develop. It was decidedly cold. Imagine my amazement then when this poor, shivering bee landed under my nose in the flower beds. He looked hunched and miserable, poor thing. I thought I’d seen the last of the bees weeks ago. 

I asked him if he was ok, perhaps he’d like a mug of soup? He shook his head sadly and carried on his way.