The sky was amazing, dramatic. Deep, rolling gray at times. Clear, impossible blue at others. Rainbowed. Broken to reveal long beams of golden light. And under that sky, a racket.

The goldfinches are passing through. Which means that the chattering is ceaseless. Now and then, I hear a song that intrigues but stays hidden. And then there was the burning bush.

The thing was planted years ago. It was there when my folks bought the house. It’s huge and unruly. It has grown out of all control, despite my best attempts to keep it pruned. And this weekend, it buzzed.

I was enjoying the scent of tiny buds; an aroma that played in the changing wind with the smell of the lilacs near the road. The sound was inescapable. A buzzing. Big and intense. Almost frightening. I was afraid there was a hive somewhere near. Critters that would chase and swarm and sting. But no.

Honeybees. Uncountable. All over the bush, entranced by the same buds that attracted me. They weren’t interested in me at all; they didn’t buzz me or threaten, they just went about their bee-business. I wonder what that joney would taste like. Honey from a burning bush that buzzed.

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