Underfoot

One Does not forget The yellow and black Stomping under foot in the woods I look back Running on a pre school walk Stumbling into honey bees Wandering amongst the trees I am stung and yet un-sung Singing before swear words began Now, lounging with wet milk on my lips in more cautious sun shine I crush those who wish me harm for we are both afraid. This poem has not ended yet I go back and find the wasp again I crushed and yet I find it breathing A soul afraid in pain as I crush it again this time in sympathy I cry for hurting you