The bee was motionless, driven to the ground by January's chill breeze. I placed my hand upon the cold mud of the riverbed and watched the tiny creature creep forward, drawn to the heat of my flesh. It clambered aboard and I lifted it into a slice of pale sunlight. It tasted me, carressed me with pointed antennae, explored the expanse of a finger. Soon the gossamer wings spread, shivered and buzzed. The bee darted away, returning to circle my head as if to share the excitement of a second chance.