Beautiful

unkind

there was a nest in the eaves

of the old sauna

there was a stack captured

in a pint glass tempted

by sweetness only to be

finely chiselled

delicate focussed

inject their eggs

their grubs

their offspring

into caterpillars and

communities subverting

systems controlling

almost simulating

autonomy

hollowed emptied exhausted

husk never to emerge

as butterfly or moth

but rather

as franchised coffee bar

constructed fashion outlet

Wasp

[ 8th October 2016, returned to 12th December. My wasp poem; it's all Wendy Pratt's fault ]