the hornet

a free verse fable

Photo by Caitlin Oriel on Unsplash

It would have been dead there,
exhausted,
buzzing
and catching its breath again,
after every buzzing,
powerless against a cheating window,
allowing to see the world out there,
its world
without giving the hornet
to come back again.

It was slumped over
the cold marble floor,
worn out, without strength.

Out there, lush hydrangeas, opened up and exposed as a woman’s lips, waiting for a kiss again and again, were waiting

Out there the reviving claw of the sun was waiting.

But the hornet stayed there,
overwhelmed.

Last time my gaze perched on it, the hornet had died.

That big and black hornet
braving the gravity and laws of physics.

The hornet that would have continued to fly
without asking who it was.