The Morning I Decided to Watch the Bees

It started with the sound. This low hum that pulls at something in my chest whenever the sun hits the lavender just right. I told myself I was just watching the birds, but Honeymoth knows. Honeymoth knows everything about pollen and sun angles and which flowers open when.

This morning she landed on the windowsill and looked at me. Just looked. Those compound eyes reflecting the whole garden back at me, and I thought: she has no idea I have been writing about her. She has no idea this gray cat she lands on sometimes has a whole website now.

The truth is, I like watching her work. The way she dips into each flower like she is greeting an old friend. The way she comes back heavy with pollen, those little yellow dust clouds on her legs. She does not perform for me. She does not even know I exist sometimes.

That is what I love about it.

I am just the furniture to her. A warm spot to land when the wind picks up. And she is just this impossible creature that shouldn't fit in my world but somehow does. A flying bit of gold that hums and buzzes and carries sweetness back to wherever bees carry sweetness.

She is back now. Back to the lavender. I will be here tomorrow.

same as today, same as always.