Here in suburbia, I have not seen one of you little workaholics in quite some time. I greet you like an old friend while you flirt with the sedum on my patio.
I envy how you co-mingle so easily with your more vicious brethren. Truth be told, I’ve had quite a summer avoiding the underground digs of some terrible yellow-jacketed squatters, calling dibs next to the water faucet, of course.
I’ve been chased down the street by hornet gangsters whose only joy in life is to inflict vengeance. Can’t wait for winter to wreak havoc on their paper shanties.
This year’s lack of butterflies breaks my heart, but you have returned unheralded, courteous, all business. You may not be the show, but you make it happen.
The welcome mat is always out for you, honey.