In the afternoon I watched the she-bear; she was looking for the secret bin of sweetness - honey, that the bees store in the treesâ€™ soft caves. Black block of gloom, she climbed down tree after tree and shuffled on through the woods. And then she found it! The honey-house deep as heartwood, and dipped into it among the swarming bees - honey and comb she lipped and tongued and scooped out in her black nails, until
maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe a little drunk, and sticky down the rugs of her arms, and began to hum and sway. I saw her let go of the branches, I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle into the leaves, and her thick arms, as though she would fly - an enormous bee all sweetness and wings - down into the meadows, the perfections of honeysuckle and roses and clover - to float and sleep in the sheer nets swaying from flower to flower day after shining day.