Grimbeau

I watched thin lipped as a wasp

(call it the Duke of Clarence)

fights pluckily to escape

the wing-glue of flat cider.

It takes ages to perish.

When I return it keeps

going for a while, succumbing

at four-twenty-four pm.

Ninety come to the waking,

a good turnout, and chase me

back inside to the plague of

locusts and other various

small and quite big flying things.