coal black filly

The white bees came at evening ... whirling in soft flights, swinging him on their wings ... his hair would be full of them ... he did not see them come; but they hung over him, as though the roof were open, a Danaan shower. Then they went away. The great swarm passed, leaving only stragglers to sit on his hot eyelids. Days passed without them and nights. One evening they came as he had never seen them, and all night the bitter room had blazed and swung with their soundless ecstasy. That was the last time. One night he dreamed that he had found one dead and brittle on the blanket, and woke crying.