Morning glories, pale as a mist drying, br fade from the heat of the day, but already br hunchback bees in pirate pants and with peg-leg br hooks have found and are boarding them. br br This could do for the sack of the imaginary br fleet. The raiders loot the galleons even as they br one by one vanish and leave still real br only what has been snatched out of the spell. br br I've never seen bees more purposeful except br when the hive is threatened. They know br the good of it must be grabbed and hauled br before the whole feast wisps off. br br They swarm in light and, fast, dive in, br then drone out, slow, their pantaloons heavy br with gold and sunlight. The line of them, br like thin smoke, wafts over the hedge. br br And back again to find the fleet gone. br Well, they got this day's good of it. Off br they cruise to what stays open longer. br Nothing green gives honey. And by now br br you'd have to look twice to see more than green br where all those white sails trembled br when the world was misty and open br and the prize was there to be taken.