诗歌

The Honey Bee
By Terry BUG Lilly

The honey bee flies on impossible wings
Bolstered with pride at the fear of her stings
Her toils and labor, a life in the field
Of freedom and sunshine, collecting the yield
Of natures bouquet seems thankless and dull
When her heart and her ear are inclined to the call
Of battles and wars which would honor her form
Any foe'd be laid low by the wrath of the swarm
Yet this fact has escaped her, and still it is true,
That the prick of her barbs will exact a high due
And the pain she may dole in a moment of strife
May be endured by her enemies, but will cost her, her life

Green 
By Terry BUG Lilly

When at last life is sprung with potential and new
Drawn out by fresh warmth,  having suckled on dew
The world seems to welcome and hopes all that might be
An infantile mewling for sights yet to see
Experience yawns with the stretching of days
Every storm weathered strengthens and may
Prepare for the heat and droughts to endure
While verdant and vibrant, confident, sure
No thoughts spared for death or the doldrums of cold
The waning of days, unheeded, untold
Until the colors of fire are finally adorned
The purchase of wisdom has emptied the stores
Gracefully answering the cooling wind's call
Towards heaven or earth in Autumn they fall