Post by Raymond Neely on Sept 3, 2011 10:57:51 GMT -5
by Raymond Neely
We are kindred spirits with the wasps,
as they, splayed around our living quarters,
welcoming as lotus flowers,
are gathered into soft linens
and onto pillows
and let go alive
onto outdoor bannisters.
A drawn breath rushes out,
hinting at a sigh.
I wonder if wasps mourn their dead,
as the line of husks on my
windowsill suggests they don't.
They carry them single file
out of the hive and release them
to the air below.
The whole hive feels the loss.
I know they do.
We are kindred spirits with the wasps,
as they, splayed around our living quarters,
welcoming as lotus flowers,
are gathered into soft linens
and onto pillows
and let go alive
onto outdoor bannisters.
A drawn breath rushes out,
hinting at a sigh.
I wonder if wasps mourn their dead,
as the line of husks on my
windowsill suggests they don't.
They carry them single file
out of the hive and release them
to the air below.
The whole hive feels the loss.
I know they do.