The warbler and the wasp

Singing its song while flying the skies,
The warbler happily looks at the world below.
Wings flapping morning, afternoon, and evening,
She glides low before landing to find her sustenance.

 

Buzzing a bit erratically above land,

The wasp darts menacingly around the area.

It manages to climb higher only when necessary,

He is seldom welcomed or greeted by anything he sees.

 

But coexist the warbler and the wasp manage to do,

Just like many of God’s creations on this earth of humans.

One can sing happily while the other goes buzzing hazardly,

Because it takes all kinds, sizes, shapes, to make this world spin.

 

And so it goes night after day, all year,

Come sunshine, heat, wind, rain, cold, snow.

As youth gives way to age, business to pleasure,

War to peace, dismay to hope, short stops, and all the way.

 

And then one night the warbler and the wasp meet,

Unplanned and to the detriment of all in that moment.

The warbler was gliding low as the wasp buzzed higher,

And both were startled and unable to avoid each other’s body.

 

There was no song for the warbler,

It was not sustenance to continue onward.

No buzzing for joy from the wounded wasp,

For it had encountered a mass much too large.

 

There was a short fall from the sky,

Straight to the cold and dark waters below.

With sounds on the way down swallowed quickly,

After a splash, some flapping, and sinking of their bodies.

 

As quickly as they met unwillingly,

Their rendezvous was forever all over.

After years of singing and buzzing separately,

It all ended for them in familiar skies and waters.

 

Other warblers and wasps will fly,

Few will ever have such a fateful night.

Their songs and buzzing will fill the skies,

With the grace of God all over this big world.

 

 

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns