Poems From The Porch
There is a majestic wasp poised on the wall next to my rocker.
I wonder why he is sitting there alone.
Maybe he is in prayer, like me.
A tiny ant is wandering around near the wasp,
looking for what?
The pattern it is making seems aimless.
Now two other ants join the party,
Their movements are no more predictable.
The wasp looks like a giant leviathan next to their itty-bittiness.
He is a bastion of power,
but the ants don’t seem intimidated.
Maybe they know that he will only strike if provoked.
I move closer to get a better view, but when I do,
the wasp senses my presence and gets tense.
So I sit back and rock,
letting him have his space.
This is a useful maneuver with people, too.