It was one of those October daze when it was a pleasure to be alive . The sky was blew and the heir cold and sharp with a cent of wet earth as the mourning sun warmed the chilled countryside . And then I court site of a lonely bie struggling to find the pollen of a final flour . Wear had he bean , this sad worker , doomed so soon to dye ? I marvelled at his energy as he climbed along so many bear storks . Finding nothing, he flue on and disappeared from cite . I continued my walk to a country in where , sitting outside , I contentedly sipped my bier , musing all the wile on the mixed fortunes of life .