The Bee Orchid’s Masquerade

The Bee Orchid’s Masquerade

By nature’s hand, a trick is played,

Upon the breeze, in sun or shade,

Where petals bloom in soft parade—

Behold the Bee Orchid’s masquerade.

A velvet bloom with mimic grace,

A bee’s own form upon its face,

With wings of blush and golden hue,

It lures the real with what’s untrue.

No buzzing drone, no nectar sweet,

Yet still they come, their dance complete.

Deceived by shape, by scent, by art,

They play their part, then drift apart.

In meadows wild or limestone bed,

This orchid lifts its painted head.

A masterstroke of evolution,

A quiet, floral revolution.

So pause and look where grasses sway,

You might just glimpse, one summer day,

A flower dressed in bee disguise

A trickster born to mesmerize.

by Benjamin-Ashley Whitworth