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Shoo Fly by Linda Collins No matter how hard I try I just cannot seem to appreciate the fly. It finds its way in easily enough, depositing who-knows-what on all of my stuff. You'd think it could leave with similar ease, but instead it just weaves to and fro, bumping incessantly against the window. Try as I might to deliver death's smite, at the last possible moment it always takes flight. Yes, the fly keeps in motion buzzed on some magic elixir, 'til finally it dies inside my light fixture. Though I do understand that it's one of God's creatures, the fly does not have any redeeming features. About the author: Linda is a fledgling poet who likes to write about ordinary topics. | | | |
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