first there was only one but the rest weren’t far behind.
the day was sweltering but still they came.
these aren’t bees, no their sound is more hauntingly menacing.
the scent of them is more pungent and raw always lingering a constant reminder of their sourness.
running will not work; there are just so many hovering near my door.
tricky, always the thought that they’ve gone so I’ll glance…yes, there’s more.
what do wasps desire? do they have just one queen or do they seek others to worship and then destroy?
they’re on their endless quest of tradition; it employs them, a journey sought only to torment and control.
their language isn’t mine so at their mercy, I am. and if I did speak it, what would I plead to make them go away?
is the meta-language of swarming flight within my capacity to know?
if I was to grasp it and voice it, would they (All) just go?
theaflys 