Wasps' Nest

There's a hole by the wall in the garden
where wasps whizz in and out.
I don't know why, but they whine as they fly,
like workmen who call and shout,
"Make way! Look out! Mind your head!"
Busy buzzing's what it's all about.

I don't much care for their stings, it's true,
but a wasp is an interesting beast.
They didn't seem to mind my looking,
well, not straight away, at least.
Yet, as I watched, I began to feel
like a spectre at their feast.

It seemed their whines grew louder,
and their numbers appeared to rise.
Then I felt one brush the top of my head,
and another, too close to my eyes.
So I click-click-clicked with my camera
and was off, with no 'goodbyes'.

poem © Celia Warren 2011

Took several snaps, but have gone with one of the earlier ones, rating quality of focus over quantity of wasps. Funnily enough, the more wasp-action, the less steady my hand on the shutter! They were a complete blur as I made my departure - dozens and dozens of them. (Oh, and for the sake of accuracy, it's actually in my mother's garden.)