I toil away in this grey cleft like a broken eagle, no more to take flight from the aerie.
Below me and at great distance, the beetles glide along their prescribed paths, and it is easy to forget I was once with them.
The skys are heavy and featureless. The damp presses against the glass of my lonely perch and rattles me with its promise of cold to come.
But I know that in time I will climb down from this place and find my way to the nest that was our home.
And although it is barren and cold, I will always hope, as I approach, that it will one day again be filled with your bright light.
You are my star.
Even your memory is enough to keep me warn. So in your long absence, I will mill about our nest, and rearrange its paper walls in an endless search for the perfection that will bring you home to me -- my queen bee.