Tonight, as I sat outside, a dying bee flew into a light above me. It buzzed against the hot bulb for a while before falling out and landing on the floor, still. Ater a few quiet seconds it flew up again, into the light, buzzing intensely in the sconce before falling out and onto the floor. Where it lay still. It repeated this futile flight again and again and was still at it when I finally got up and walked away, ashamed for life and full of pity for the bee. “That’s no way to go,” I thought. But the bee had more hope than me. It flew into the light. I walked away.
Thirty minutes later, a green preying mantis shows up and steals the scene.