Fly Past.

I welcome this fly buzzing over my food.
Someone brand new has entered my home,
A perfect stranger from a miniscule world
Unrestricted by Covid - 19 and lock down,
Someone who simply comes and goes.

If this fly has a name, I will not overhear it,
The name will be secret, locked in the fly mind,
A delicate speck of self consciousness
That gives the fly reasons for being a fly.
Each insect has its own small take on the world.

Folk are not as special as we think we are,
We can be killed by a spiky globule of fat
Invisible to the human eye.
Perhaps the fly can avoid what we cannot see,
It has five bright eyes on its little blue head.

This fly takes the loneliness out of the day,
It is a living creature sharing my house
That has been my monks cell for most of the
                                                               spring,
But sadly there is nothing we can natter about,
My life would seem meaningless to gnat or to
                                                               musca,

A dream that this fly will never encounter.
A fly is too buzzy to lie back and dream.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
17th. - 25th. 2020.