I think all of us hate flies in our homes. They are there to buzz us or should I say bug us? They fly in your food, they land on you and tickle your skin, they fly round and round in circles. They land where they want and when they want. They are downright irritating!
I wrote a short poem that goes like this: “In all the places in the world that a fly could be, he chooses to be with me.”
Just a few moments ago, I was sitting outside on the stairs with my hand on my chin playing my harmonica or at least attempting to play. When a fly landed on my hand. Because my hand was close to my face, this fly looked right into my eyes. He sat there on my hand for a few seconds. He washed his front legs, then he washed his middle legs with the two front ones, then he just sort of shook his back ones. I am sitting there mesmorized by this fly. Watching him wash himself and admiring at his blue iridescent colors. After he was done, he peed on me and flew off. Just a small pinsized drop. I wouldn’t even have seen it but the way the sun was shining, it reflected the sun. Like eweh.
My dogs when they see me grab a fly swatter, run and hide! They know that I go tend to go wild when I am bugged!
So the next time you are bugged by a fly remember, “That in all the places in the world that the fly can be, he chooses to be with thee!”
- I heard a Fly buzz when I died- (591) by Emily Dickinson (asiscribbled.wordpress.com)
- Flies… Oh How I Loathe Them! (cntryrose.net)