FIRST LESSON IN SHIT DISTURBING

On a ramble

down the creekbed

I kicked a log

that spanned

the stream.

From an unseen

orifice in its

underside streamed

a host of irate

white jacket

wasps. I froze

and watched

them buzz about

my knees

and rubber-booted

feet for what

might have been

an hour. One by

one they retreated

to their hidden

hive, my heartbeat

slowing one

by one, until

the last wasp

disappeared inside

and I paused

one beat

longer—then

kicked the log

and ran.