No Place For An Eagle
Unable to grasp the the context
Despite her greatest resolve
The Queen Bee frowns at her, vexed
Into the background my girl dissolves
Hive order is a nasty one
Mean girls, stingers in back
Each social stratum is hard-won
Her skills of nuance do lack
Their fell dance she does not get
Not made to bow to throne
Forever on the outside, yet
Safe, hidden, and alone
From lonely heights she sees
Hot updraft carries higher
Her mind flowing with an ease
Than the hive could never aspire
So safe, but wishes she weren’t
Within abides crimson yearning
Others to share the current
While below, vanities burning
4/30/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
For my Daughter, who shares the family "gift"--
The mixed blessing of an independent mind,
and its social challenges.
For further elaboration, see my poem "Of Asses and Burgers"
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