I don’t like flies. I have a couple buzzing around. Mosquitos are worse. So, in my irritable mood, a few poems recognizing the fly, for whatever reason!
The Fly – by Ogden Nash
God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
The Fly – by William Blake
Little fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing;
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,
Than am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
Summer Serenade – by Ogden Nash
When the thunder stalks the sky,
When tickle-footed walks the fly,
When shirt is wet and throat is dry,
Look, my darling, that’s July.
Though the grassy lawn be leather,
And prickly temper tugs the tether,
Shall we postpone our love for weather?
If we must melt, let’s melt together!
Summer is ending, but birds sing, bees buzz, flies annoy, the beach beckons, and life goes on!
Ink, Yarn & Beer 