A lazy honey bee I cannot be when I am the disembodied stinger in your arm.
The one who helps bring fruit to your trees, no, I’m the one who brings you harm.
Tripping and tipping over your heavily laden cart, or hiding in your barrel,
I’m the rotten one that spoils your bunch, I’m your worm infested apple.
You must think I invented all these ways that I rain on your grand parade,
When in fact my words are overtures and olive branches that I’d made.
Divining rod, weather vane, maybe fortune cookie, me?
No, just tossing sticks into the air to grow my book of dreams.
Door is shut, sign is up, NO Trespassing, this means YOU,
Your disapproval will not be the taming of this shrew.
Laugh, you will, but I have made a projection out of me,
A caricature, a holograph of what I wish that you could see.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019