Pollinators twinkled
around the white star flowers of wild onion
and the pinking sedum fronting
the withering coneflowers
in my roadside garden.

A new mail lady appeared—
Bees! she exclaimed, afraid
they’ll attack her in her truck
while she’s sorting bundles.

I couldn’t convince her they’re harmless.
Cut the flowers—or
she’ll hold my mail at the post office.
I’ll wait for the flowers to wilt,
for the insects to disappear—
then will request delivery
of all the bad news. ❖

 

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About the Author: Christel Maass lives in Wisconsin and has reached a truce with her mail lady. She frequently writes about nature and has been widely published in print and online.