Honey, because our comb is capacious, the plethora of amber pollen here should all be utilized.
I hear that the queen, believing the winter will be arduous, is dictitating orders like a waitress to a buzz-boy.
If, in your periphery, you see a blur bumble, beware; it may not be kin, but, rather, a scalding whisp from those aeraulic smokers.
Brushing each of these stamen sure will keep us busy below golden sun, whose lunar forebears will come out to play when our day is finally done. ; )