On a hot spring morning when no wind was blowing,
A hive divided into two groups,
An old queen,preparing to leave
And a new queen, sizing up her new home.
Too many bodies in too small a room,
The heat was unbearable,
A time to zoom.
Many bees clustered
On the outside walls because
Scouts were already on their way,
Searching for places a hive might stay.
Oriented by sun,
The swarm lifted into the sky,
Circling as a group of one.
When the scouts reported all was good,
The old queen left the neighborhood.
On a nearby branch they clung to each other,
Sixty thousand workers, a few drones, and the mother.
After a short rest to see who was still there,
A series of flights and a new home was found,
A hole in a tree thirty feet above ground.
The queen found a good spot,
Where the workers could build and it wasn’t hot.
A foundation of wax was prepared and quickly done,
The swarm became a colony and began thinking as one.
A swarm of workers, a few drones and a queen
Hidden in the branches and rarely seen.

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