On long summer days
we had a jam jar on the wall.
Holes in the lid,
punctured with a screwdriver,
releasing a strawberry scent.
Half filled with water,
the wasps could never resist.
I would watch them squeeze
through puckered holes
to feast on jam
then drown.
As a sensitive soul,
when eyes were diverted,
I would give rescue
upon a lolly pop stick.
Now I am all flapping arms