Wasp Nest

I have a wasp nest in a jar.

Found in the grass; it sat small.

Now, after rescuing the abandoned home,

It sits like a prize on a bookshelf.

And even though it is thankfully empty,

Thoughts of those raging insects

Buzz as if they are still here,

Waiting to reclaim their home.

And every now and then

I’ll hold it in my hand,

Out of the jam jar, like fragile paper.

And it reminds me that disaster

Awaits in the smallest things.

But with a quick motion

I can crush disaster in my palm.

As long as the wasps aren’t present.