Anatomy of a Black Fly

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #277

Words:  door, light, reload, patterns, anatomy, chatter, heave, screeching, flies, net, dead, back

Following their established pattern,
a new load of black flies descended
upon Lake George, alighting
on bathing suit clad vacationers,
and biting them. Happens every May. 
Back to the lake. Some fool
went chasing after them
with a net, trying to heave it
over them. They scoffed.
A couple of chatterers weaseled
their way into a cabin. When lights
went on, they scattered along
the door, buzzing, and flying
in circles. Screeches from
surprised cabin renters rose
above sound of flies. If you wait
a few weeks, they will all
be dead. Never fear, though,
new ones will pick up the slack.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to Anatomy of a Black Fly

  1. Never fear, though,
    new ones will pick up the slack.

    It gets frightening knowing they are there gnashing their teeth taking their time waiting on new renters.



  2. “weaseled their way into the cabin” is especially clever. I’ve experienced black flies at Lake George in the summer and can testify that you’ve described it perfectly! Been away from Sunday Whirl for a long time, but as in the past, love seeing what you do with those odd little lists of words


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