the first wasps of autumn have arrived
with their distinctive annoying buzz.
persistent, bloody minded, they tempt me
to swat and squash,
but instead I wait for them to find the light
catch them gently with glass and cloth
and free them though the window.
they will be back
with friends no doubt, and possibly
their mother, searching out sweetness
and somewhere warm for the winter.
increasingly hard to catch, and in their own way
patient, can be quiet for hours, and find
unexpected places to rest, sometimes
making it through
the colder months unnoticed, high up, on top
of a picture rail, in a fold of material
or down the side of a bed.
their purpose is not obvious, in the food chain
where do they belong? mostly they’re an irritant,
suicidal, dangerous and striped.