In morning light, the bees do dance,
To blossoms bright, they take their chance.
With wings of gold, they gather grace,
To bring us honey, sweet embrace.

Through fields of bloom, they weave their flight,
In tireless quest from dawn to night.
Each drop of nectar, pure and bright,
Becomes a treasure, golden light.

The honey flows, a river sweet,
From combs of dreams, a joyous feat.
It graces tables, hearts it meets,
With warmth and love, a taste complete.

So let us praise the humble bee,
For gifts of gold and harmony.
In every drop, their legacy,
A symphony of nature’s glee.