As spring springs and buds bud, soon petals push open and bees bumble. Everywhere, breezes. I stop at a pink peony. Hear it, before I see it. A bumblebee, hovering, tumbling, in and out of silky folds. Bumble | tumble | stumble, back into view before pausing, mid-air, to descend for another intoxicating sip. No hurry, no worry, not as a bee. No hustle, nor bustle—to be that free. To do away with to-do lists, ignore the ceaseless phone. Blow off the email reply—oh, my! Freedom, buoyant as a bee. I lean in to see a whole world in a moment, inside a pink peony.