The Summer of Flies or: The Flies of Summer
by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen — Read all 1,670 poems by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Strange, isn’t it,
When you have
Less butterflies,
You have more flies,
in a season?
Should I be worried,
Singularly, signed off by lies?
Ha! Of course not! Yes?
It’s a sign of the Times,
Less bothersome than rhymes,
More a friend of – ‘gone bys’,
Skin-kissed by fly feet….
Strange, isn’t it,
The amount of flies,
This summer,
Touching our skins,
without reason?
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/18/06
For us, in SoCal it is the ant, like the relentless invasion of wetbacks into this country, and also the pernicious and ouchful wasp.
Everything is changing, in the large spectrum, and in the smaller ones.
Let us dance to the re-wiring of corporeal circuits, and the passing of seasons. For as Bob Zimmerman sang: "for the times they are a-changin!"
Richard the Intrepid
Love Tinka