I mount it almost every day
This morning on the tiled floor
A hectacomb – dead wasps galore!
My house is old, with wooden eaves
And built quite close to woodland trees.
But in this cold with windows closed
How they got in, no one knows...
In nooks and crannies they lie crushed
I sweep them out with pan and brush
And flush them down the upstairs loo
It's sad, but what else can I do?
Post breakfast – one flies overhead;
Wielding a slipper at its head
I try to swipe with hardened heart
But this yellow jacket is too smart...
This 'fait accompli' infestation
Means Nature needs no invitation
To set up home within my walls;
The term 'my little nest' appalls!
(c) Poet in the woods 2019
a.k.a. Yellow Vests
No comments:
Post a Comment