Mary Oliver and Bees

I often read a Mary Oliver poem at night before I go to sleep.  She writes so beautifully about nature.  Tonight I read two of her poems about bees and will share one of them with you.  It's titled:  "Happiness"
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Happiness
by Mary Oliver from American Primitive

In the afternoon I watched
the she-bear; she was looking
for the secret bin of sweetness -
honey, that the bees store
in the trees'soft caves
Black block of gloom, she climbed down
tree after tree and shuffled on
through the woods.  And then
she found it!  The honey-house deep
as heartwood, and dipped into it
among the swarming bees - honey and comb
she lipped and tongued and scooped out
in her black nails, until

maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe
a little drunk, and sticky
down the rugs of her arms,
and began to hum and sway.
I saw her let go of the branches,
I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle
into the leaves, and her thick arms
as though she would fly -
an enormous bee
all sweetness and wings -
down into the meadows, the perfection
of honeysuckle and roses and clover -
to float and sleep in the sheer nets
swaying from flower to flower
day after shining day.
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Here's an earlier post of a Mary Oliver poem also about bees.