The Bee of Moffitt Street

The Bee of Moffitt Street

I hit a bee

with the Eureka bus

on Moffitt street.

She was pretty mad about it

and understandably so.

A-buzz against a bus,

she attacked—

pollen fringed fuzz in a fury

battering the windshield:

slinger with a stinger

versus Goliath, my Orion.

She—a fraction of a fraction of an ounce

Me—a couple dozen tons of glass and steel

the full force of her will set

to push me back uphill.

Ten times a shift through the gauntlet

of Moffitt street, steering a close course

between curbed tires and wing mirrors—

this passage was the strangest

contest for street space I’ve faced.

Every foe from Farnum to Bemis

backs down before

the Mighty 35

yet this bee

would not yield.

Head to head we did

battle, bee and bus

and it was I that conceded

more cowardice, less grit—

closing the driver’s window

for safety’s sake.