Perspectives

By Geetanjali Jain

A breezy day in mid-July

I sat outside to gaze the sky.

To my disdain, a teeny fly

Pierced my ears with its buzzing cry.

Try as I would to make it fly

It made it clear it was there to pry.

I thought to myself – ‘What a senseless guy!

Doesn’t know soon how he is going to die

Would he do the same if he knew what I

Knew about his worthless try?

No matter how hard he tried to get by

Tomorrow he would but in sand lie.

Would he still think himself so high

If he knew he was the size of a rye?

He’s born and pops in the blink of an eye

But never just quite wonders why.’

As for him, he was being a good fly

But what a waste of his time and cry

Something better could surely come by

If he didn’t with his swarm comply.

As I mused over his life so dry

I heard a bit of cackle nearby

Turned around to see what was nigh

The mountains stared right in my eye.

By Geetanjali Jain