Honey Bee
your incessant buzzing irritates
we swish you away in anger
the field of flowers calls you
to constant, high speed activity
bee keepers of the past
knew smoke would slow you enough
to harvest the fruit of your labor
and we liked the comb
once, the fields were endless
your energy tamed the frontier
your work built a nation
and we reaped the harvest
now you batter your wings in a cubicle
we calm you with synthetic smoke
because the fields are no more
and we call you ADHD