Riverside

Here, where felons used to prowl
wedge-shaped yards
then retreat to cells arranged along a
hexagonal wall,
a warden watched
from high on the hill
above an obligatory chapel.

I've heard there are still tunnels.
Dungeons
where the soon-to-be-convicted
are held
awaiting their call to court
and judgement.

The rest of this humming hive
was swept away
replaced, decades ago,
- after war and impoverishment -
with a nest of wasp-like workers,
chewing and manufacturing paper
with their spit.

And now it's this:
the shell left when that swarm
- long overgrown -
departed
leaving their former residence
for those that tend the young
and carry outsized eggs to safety
when disturbed with a spade.