Not Again
Not Again On my way to Wegmans window cracked when two mating wasps tumble into my car. I grab an atlas, frantic, scoop and sweep them, finally, out again on the busiest boulevard in town. I didn’t kill them, or anyone, in the process, myself included. We’ll call that victory. Sometimes the heart at 50 miles per hour has time to tumble out of a wasp’s nest into a slow motion jam of close calls and old disappointments. Not bit. Not hit. Today we’ll call that lucky. S. Robbins from Readings
Sherry Robbins 