in my obliviousness
inadvertent and unintentional
some may say as usual
i disturbed a wasp nest
the heightened bombilation
an anger-pitched droning
unheard somehow
therefore unheeded
until that impolite *****
a warning sting
through t-shirt to torso
followed by a few more
in quick succession
set my legs moving
apologetically away
with hands raised
chastened and contrite
both in supplication
and in order to remove
the offending article
of clothing
the oversensitive wasp
having become trapped within
defensively stinging
as nature directs
to be honest
its overzealous instincts
began to feel
more like spite
than mere survival

On my kitchen shelf
happy little saucepan birds
nest inside each other

Building a nest
Selecting piece by piece
Twig by twig
The foundation for new life

Building a family
New born by new born
From offspring to offsprung
From eyes open to first run

Fleeing the nest
From uni offer to tearful goodbye
From first cycle to mother's cry
The nest is still called home
The nest is still called home

She lay on the ground, dirt collecting on her bones and in her hair.
Feathers and twigs scatter around her as the raven builds its nest.
A gentle breeze stirs up leaves around her.
It never served her to have a heart of gold.

I find that I am afraid
            yet you're the one who's flying.
The empty nest?  A cavern.
            No clue what to think; what to do.
How does one proceed?
            What's the point of crying or trying
                          to hold a heart that's flown . . .
And that's the trouble;
            your heart, my heart,
                          all the same if the truth is known.
But you're the one with wings
            and you scare me with your fledgling flight.
I will be ok, but right now,
            I am afraid of your height.

I was on a plantain branch
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
She put her bangles on a rock
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
Glimpse of gold, shined my eyes
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
I took it and flew back home
Cra cra… Cra cra.. Craa..
A cry of fury trembling hut,
I wonder why she made that fuss.
With a bit of twinge I shout,
“One I took, three with you!”
Still her rage in frenzy mood,
Crowd is fanning flames to grow,
In my nest it shine and rest,
Golden bangles shining lust.
Then I went back looking around,
To watch the jokers in a run,
But my eyes in surprise hunt,
The bustle of hut in deep slumber.
Oh! Again this gold will turn
me a golden queen of crows.
Another bangle on the rock,
I took it and flew back home.
What a foolish bird I’m!
Fallen on their tricky trap.
They found my nest and climbed up tree,
My two bangles went with them.