A fly, during the summer's drought <br />was buzzing in a fly-about <br />through villages and fields of wheat <br />in search of something fit to eat. <br /> <br />Above a farm and from the air <br />he saw a feast of no compare, <br />a brown and somewhat runny pie <br />pleased both his nostrils and his eye. <br /> <br />He landed quickly to make sure <br />that none would see this sweet manure, <br />and ate way past his normal fill, <br />felt stuffed and just a trifle ill. <br /> <br />Sounds from the house now could be heard, <br />and he could see that every bird, <br />that had been sitting in a tree <br />flew off as if it had to flee. <br /> <br />The fly, now finished with the pie <br />was getting set to bid good bye, <br />he tried and tried but only found <br />that he would never leave the ground. <br /> <br />He was too heavy, that was it, <br />so full of warm and tasty shit, <br />but he was crafty, skilled and never <br />would give it up; he was too clever. <br /> <br />A pitchfork stood, leaned to a wall, <br />its handle wooden and quite tall. <br />He figured if he climbed he might <br />initiate successful flight. <br /> <br />He did, and reached the top at last, <br />let out an afterburner blast <br />and hurled himself into the sky! <br />but dropped just like a stone. Oh my! <br /> <br />Blood, mixed with brown digested matter <br />the sight of it, I mean the latter, <br />was nowhere pretty to the eyes <br />but it attracted other flies. <br /> <br />They swarmed and held an aerial meeting, <br />and found that they would do some eating, <br />because there was nutritious fare <br />which they went down to, and to share. <br /> <br />I say, if you have eaten shit <br />and thus are truly full of it, <br />don't off your handle ever fly, <br />just look what happened to this fly!<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flying-off-the-handle/
