The Hornets

This is the appreciation of one 'daughter' in the family we call the United States and the free world.

The Hornets

It started little, started small

a patch of dark mud on the wall.

“So high and distant, can’t you see?”

“They will not harm us, let them be.”

So quietly their numbers grew,

to millions though all thought a few.

They’d see one fly – another land,

They did not see the plot at hand.

The peace was shattered by a ball

that bounced against the house’s wall.

An accident, no malice meant

But bee’s don’t think about intent.

They stormed the child with stinging bite,

this made all notice their ‘new’ plight –

The inside walls were loud and warm,

caused by the vast invading swarm.

The father, furious with rage,

cried, “War!” and battled on their stage.

He went to them, he did not wait.

The more time passed?  The worse the fate.

But in so doing they fought back,

against the father’s fierce attack.

So scattered was the hornet’s woe,

now looking for some place to go.

This caused the neighborhood to shout,

“It’s all his fault – this swarming cloud!”

But they had been there so sublime;

Unhindered, strengthening for their time.

Did father sin, protecting home

and child from danger in this poem?

Who stung the neighbors?  Was it Dad,

or hating, spitting hornets mad?

“Just let them be?  They’ll go away!?”

But they’re agenda’s here to stay.

I’ll proudly boast the courage of