The beekeeper was always talking. He sounded as if he had as much to say as his bees in apple blossom season. But all he talked about was what he was doing:
Now I’m moving this hive over just a bit. There. Now I’m walking to the clover field to see what we have this year.
He went on like this all day long, day after day, while the bees went buzzing about their business as if he didn’t exist.
One day a blind pastor was walking through the country hoping to hear a voice from heaven. When he walked past the beekeeper’s place, he heard a strange voice over the buzzing of the bees.
The blind pastor stopped to listen more carefully. The sound of the bees was like the golden pillars of heaven in his mind, and the voice of the beekeeper was like the Lord Himself descending from heaven.
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