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
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