Some tiny bees perched on twigs one afternoon. It seemed they were waiting for something. I wondered what it was. Bread? Of course not. Bees don't eat bread. A few minutes passed, they were still frozen in place.
A moment later, some left because they were tired of waiting perhaps. Some were still patiently waiting, me too—for something uncertain.
Dusk was almost here, and there were no signs yet. I gave up. I was leaving them in an uncertain wait.