All Things Must Come to an End

There is almost something divine

unfurled in simple flight

Little wings that lift a life

well into the light

What a wonder they display

dancing on the air

To move from point to point

content in their affair

Some magic of a motion

invisible to me

Hovering and piloting

all so effortlessly

They trespass through tranquility

without claiming any place

Fluttering so discretely

giving neither hunt nor chase

But the buzzing is insidious

annoyance invades my space

My swatter has splattered the dance

and the fly has fallen from grace.