No Place For An Eagle

Unable to grasp the the context Despite her greatest resolve The Queen Bee frowns at her, vexed Into the background my girl dissolves Hive order is a nasty one Mean girls, stingers in back Each social stratum is hard-won Her skills of nuance do lack Their fell dance she does not get Not made to bow to throne Forever on the outside, yet Safe, hidden, and alone From lonely heights she sees Hot updraft carries higher Her mind flowing with an ease Than the hive could never aspire So safe, but wishes she weren’t Within abides crimson yearning Others to share the current While below, vanities burning 4/30/16 © Thomas W. Quigley For my Daughter, who shares the family "gift"-- The mixed blessing of an independent mind, and its social challenges. For further elaboration, see my poem "Of Asses and Burgers"