Those gold and black marauders group en masse
Preparing their ambitious daylight raid.
With wings outstretching wide, prepared, they pass
And reconnoitre tempting targets laid.

They lull you into comfort, as they sit
So snugly, browsing in your sugar pot
Until, disturbed, they violently spit
With venom-barbed ambition from the slot.

And homing in, in hordes, with hateful hums
They navigate demurely all your swats
To steal the sweetness from those strawberry buns
Those dauntless, hungry hunters: Berlin wasps.

C Richard Miles

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/minature-marauders/