A Visitor on the Balcony

I walked toward the open balcony door, guided by the fresh morning air. Stepping carefully onto the cool terracotta tiles, I found a wide clay planter filled with blooming purple pansies. I stopped. A solitary honeybee was hovering above the blossoms, dipping into a bright yellow petal. I lowered myself down with slow, deliberate care, resting my heavy hands on the stone so nothing would tremble. The bee lingered for several moments, then rose, drifting inches past the painted bee upon my snout before humming away. A quiet, resonant rumble rose in my chest. A silent greeting.