I'm reminded of my youth and taking a broom stick and knocking down a wasp's nest from under the roof awning. Needless to say, a fun time was had by young, and not too bright, TallPockets. Calamine lotion applied liberally to all bitten/stung areas was a much needed comfort. I learned a good life lesson that summer day. Leave others the heck alone unless they do something to you first. WINK. Thanks for this little ditty.

As atuned to nature as some might think I am, I will never be sorry for any wasp fallen. I woke up one morning and rolled over on a wasp that was on my pillow. The wasp stung me inside my ear. I hold no sorrow for the wasps, stupid bastards. It is nice, however, to see that someone else at least holds some sort of sorrow for them. Although, I've always found that a badminton racket provides to many options for escape, I prefer the can of aerosol and a lighter (and a whole lot of running).

Garden hose applied where needed is all the harm a wasp need endure to leave your home. I had an adventure as a child in summer camp where a wasp was heard in our cabin, but we couldn't find it. One boy claimed he was allergic to wasp stings, and very distraught: He asked for my bed, which he thought might be safe. In the middle of the night, it crawled on him! He screamed "I'm stung! It's stinging me!" We were able to wrap it up in the bedsheet and threw the sheet outside. (He hadn't been stung.) In the morning, I shook out the sheet, while he watched from a "safe" distance: It flipped out of the sheet straight at him! He ran, but it was already dead. I never kill them, although I have, and feel much the same as this poem describes. Of course, I've never been badly stung by a wasp, though I've had a few smarts from bees I've un-intentionally smushed! :)