The Wasp

Spring seeps in.
After pulling off weeds and
watering bell-shaped,
bright-yellow daffodils,
I walk to the sand bottom spring.
Turquoise waters gently swirl.
Suffused, I bathe, float, swim.
The afternoon sun crawls under moist skin.
In the curling of toes, a wasp appears.
“Hello, old friend,” I greet.
Fiber-thin, delicate hairy legs walk on water.
The sentient being patiently drinks
and gracefully hovers back to the tall Mesquite.
Moments later, it returns to the surface of the spring.
“What do you do with all that water?” I ask and offer half a grin.
“I spray the flowers grateful for being loved by the universe.”
Wasp returns to the highest tree branch.
Infinite beyond measure,
this tiny insect respects the pond of life.

Mariel Masque – Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved