Photo Challenge# 78 and Wordle #216

The Wasp Hunter

Rebeca Cygnus

A drizzle of pollen

Sprouts from the panes.

The heart is, itself, inscrutable

A silhouette of various tenants

Chewed to pulp and redeemed as fodder.

She sells seances by the seashore

An envelope ripe with indigestibles.

Draw all the lines you like

But no one escapes the need for grief.

She traces wasps in the condensation.

A hunter, worth a moment of scrutiny.

She is conjugating in response

To a primitive truth.

Is this how we are to live

In the spirit’s wake?

Is this how we are to live

In the place, in the face

Of all these gathering births?

Is this how we are to live

Too far down to get ahead?


Click images to visit challenges