They appear to have forgiven me. Perhaps they are simply drunk on Rocky Mountain beeplant, which thrives like a weed from recent rains. I kind of suspected the bees might be taking me on to the next level, but I didn’t expect the challenge would take quite this form. The beetastrophe has forced me to quiet the voices inside my head, and really hear the sounds outside. The buzzing of a single bee. I give this yard to the honeybees, a keystone species; indeed, a top predator as much as any mountain lion, tiger, or bear. Layers of flowers circle this chair.