Scorpion

The last ragged wasp of summer

Sting worn away in unvarying service
Now a blunt instrument of threat only
She looked into my eyes as she passed
Then flew into the misty, midday sun
Farewell vespine scorpion of hedgerow
Unknown Soldier of the forgotten hive
The last of the combatant phalanx
Of yellowed-black warrior Amazons
Battered now by unending warfare
Take the last of the slowing nectar flow
Then fall asleep when the first frost comes