. . . returning generation after generation

       - Walt Whitman




The Seekers

Through the screen I hear the wasp

Troubling again against the web of wire,

Bumping against it and bouncing off

And trying it again, and then landing

 

And pacing back and forth across it.

Summer and fall and it hasn't found

The torn corner I've never repaired.

As six years now I have searched for

 

Its nest and never found it, though

There is no harm I would do if I did.

It lives its life as it will and I mine,

We do not need each other, and yet

 

We both keep seeking some entering

Into each other, some needful knowing,

And in a way I only now understand

Our lives have been joined in desire.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 413 times
Written on 2011-11-08 at 15:39

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
We have a huge crop of yellowjackets each fall. I used to kill them on site or trap them to die contained. Bu lately, I find that I tolerate them even landing on me. They seem to accept me permitting them and don't attack as they once did. I've honestly never thought of why I changed or the fact that they changed as a consequence of that change.
2011-12-25


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
It's always worthwhile to ponder such noble sentiments. I simply squash them. They're very tough. A flyswatter won't do. One must use a shoe or something similarly firm. And afterward? Remorse. Our lives are parallel in futility.
2011-11-13