They dance and prance
Upon the water, wasps adrift
To gather droplets dear
For mud and paper made
To create their nests
But in their nimble toils
Lies a mortal hazard
Untensioned they descend
To drown awinged below
Unable to escape death's draw
Their place here understood
A helping hand to rescue them
A pax given to benevolence repaid
Relief to drip dry on nearby leaves
And resume their earthly obligations