"The bee," announced Poison Pie, "has been widely abused. It's virtues have been extolled in metaphor and simile to laud the accomplishments of lesser creatures, thus lowering our perception of the bee itself. Take for example, the phrase busy as a bee. Whereas a bee may be truly as busy as a bee, the numerous non-apiary-dwelling creatures to whom this maxim is routinely applied, lack that proletarian work-ethic, thus diminishing not only the meaning of the phrase but also the very source of the phrase. Moreover, ..." "No!" Lynn interrupted. "We are not going to start this page with more of your high-falutin, nancy-pants, tongue-twisting gibberish." She took a deep breath and pointed at the bear. "It's intended to be whimsical." "Oh, I have an idea," Poison Pie chirped in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let's have David provide some of his renowned whimsy." Poison Pie's eyes lit up. "In the meter and rhyme of a Shakespearean sonnet perhaps! I have heard you do those so well." I humbly conceded to Poison Pie's wishes. I call this Ode to Bear. From ancient times, the stellar, circling bear called Ursus Major, fleet of foot, eludes the hunter, clubbed and caped--the vacant air of space a cosmic playground of gay moods... "Oh, for the love of God," cried Poison Pie, clapping his hands to his ears. "Spare us." "But my iambic pentameter was flawless." Poison Pie shook his great shaggy mane back and forth. Flawless iambic pentameter was not enough. He would not allow me to complete the sonnet. "Perhaps then just a haiku?" Poison Pie relented. "Sure." What harm could a haiku do? So I said: contemplating bears in Knoxville would be better with a punk rock soundtrack Poison Pie was very pleased; he has a weakness for punk rock, especially Black Flag and The Ramones. He was prompted to shout a spontaneous punk-rock haiku of his own: the sky is crawling with striped bears. I won't obey! I'm not a machine! Lynn added a haiku of her own: four friends and one bear We're having a good time. Soon I'll have a baby. The Notorious G added: Rollin' with my G's, got my ice bling blinging, What did I just say? All was patched up perfectly between us. Poison Pie and I exchanged hugs. This is the perfect demonstration of how things, even when they don't mean anything, especially when they don't mean anything, manage to make the word a better place to live in.