Journal for Creative Writing

 Birds fly overhead singing their happy tune as I sit here writing. The wood of the picnic table beneath me radiates heat from it's cracked and weather worn top. Everything around me is painted in bright shades of green as the sun highlights the grass and the trees. Somewhere in the distance I can hear the tune of Ice Ice Baby. Sitting down by the pool may not have been the best option. The dirty faced workers find it amusing to sit and watch me whilst on their lunch break. Dark eyes hidden behind even darker sunglasses. A bee buzzes around and lands on my drink, on my hand, on my leg and finally rests on the corner of the notebook I am writing in. His black and yellow colors contrast so completely with the table that it seems like a hyper-intense 3D. It walks slowly and feels out its terrain. It can probably feel all the rivets in the paper of my notebook that catch the lead as I write. The wind is beginning to pick up and the bees freezes for a moment before taking flight and disappearing from my sight completely.