Bee on my Shoulder
While I am sitting on my front porch a bee settles on the back of my neck and I freeze. I have been the unwilling companion of the bees on my porch for over a year now. Though I treat them kindly, I would rather they not be here at all. I can feel its tiny feet on my neck, exploring a section of my skin no bigger than a dime. I am hyper aware of all its small legs. I don’t know what drew it there. I didn’t think honey bees had a proclivity for sweat, which I'm sure is on my skin, and I know for a fact that it could not be mistaken for nectar. I detected the stink of it when I was doing yoga a few minutes before. (Had I known some creature would be smelling me, I might have put on more deodorant.) I will the bee to keep its stinger at bay, and will myself to give off only a feeling of calm. The bee spends more time exploring that dime size spot of skin. Its touch is so light that there are milliseconds that I think it has taken flight, but I know when it truly lifts off. I rel...