Honeybee

The scent of the pollen allured her, hanging in the ocean air of this breezy afternoon. It was intoxicating.
She would stop mid-flight and visit each flower that she found.
The precious nectar oozed from deep within their petals and she would eagerly drink from each one.
She would gently land in the scented shade of each blossom and gently coax the exquisite nourishment from them. She never gorged but rather drank from each flower what it was willing to give.
Some were full, over ripe, and bursting with the honeyed juice. Others had a smaller treasure, she would drink fondly, grateful for their gift, leaving them an offering of pollen as a thank you.
She always gave in return of what she took.
Her small and delicate tongue would gently lick and probe the depths of the flower, hunting for the sweetness inside.
The pollen on her coat would touch the very deepest innards of the bloom and enter its very core. Her gift, as she suckled each part, was thrust deeply into the scented womb of the soft bud.
Each flower awaited her coming and spread wide their scented opening for her to enter. Their swollen pistils would be gorged and their glistening stamens would tempt the bee to feed on their sticky juices – oh, how they would tempt her.
The soft buzzing of her wings caressed the delicate parts of the fragrant blooms with a gentle breeze as she drank her sustenance.
It was a beautiful dance.
When she was done with one she would move on to the next, slowly and deliberately milking the juice of life from each one.
Every flower needed her and each one did what it could to tempt her. Some threw heavy fragrance into the air so she could catch their scent while others bared their large and swollen glands so she could see their abundance.
She traveled from bloom to bloom not discriminating but rather appreciating their uniqueness as she took each one to feed.
While she fed each day, a gardener tended to her plants. He took gentle care of them, weeding, pruning and tending to their needs.
The flowers that she fed on were his future sustenance and he tended her as well.
He would follow her sometimes through his garden and watch as she gently buzzed from plant to plant.
She was used to his watchful eyes as he watched her drink from each bloom. She liked him watching her. It made her feel valued and cherished.
He knew that his crop depended on her and he would peer into the bedding of petals as she caressed the sweetness from each one with her tongue. The gardener watched as she carried on the cycle of life for him and would patiently wait for days to see the swollen fruits of her labor burgeoning from his plants.
Day after day, the gardener would be there among his carefully tended crops, watching, and waiting as she moved among the flowers. He was proud of her.
His pleased gaze would follow her as she traveled through the foliage and landed amongst the blooms.
Every day he would watch as she coaxed the sweet nectar from each one and left her gift in return.