Buzz

There’s a large furry hornet sitting in the grass next to me. It’s moving slow because of the cold or it’s busy with a patch of clover pollen. It’s hardly moving. I lay down to soak in some more sunlight, to recharge my head where doughy histamines have given way to foggy anti-histamines. I turn sometimes to poke at the hornet with my finger or my camera. Eventually it’s bothered enough that it jumps from between the grass blades and flies a few menacing circles around me, then bolts.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>