Don't say I didn't warn you.

Mom’s a run-in with a hornet this morning inspired this poem.
Nature’s Nasty
Nature’s nasty, Nature’s mean,
She’s pure spite in a veil of green.
Beware the stinging stabbing thorns,
The biting, hidden jaw and fangs.
Through grass it slinks,
From bough it hangs.
Nature’s nasty, nature’s mean.
Full of danger, and none too clean.
But don’t tidy up this evil Miss,
Or you might get a hornet’s kiss.
The poem would have been longer, but just thinking about nature makes me itch.
Nancy Sherer