Beeline

I am ten in
The woods on
Some farm running
Stopping running trying
To follow the beeline of one
Bee after another flying pollen
Back to the honeycomb beehive
In the woods somewhere though
I never find where the hive is I
Do follow the beeline until it
Gets dark and I must hurry
Home to lighted windows
Supper just on the table
My sisters saying I am
Late again my mother
Too busy to worry it
Is my father who
Asks my being
Late but as I
Tell him my
Adventure
Chasing
The bee
Line he
Almost
Smiles
And I guess
He has chased
The beeline once
As a boy in southern
Illinois an age ago and
Still remembers the sweet
Reward and stings fondly
As boys are prone to
Such adventures
At all ages if
They keep
Alive the
Joy of
Being
A boy.