a mayfly

 

There on a kitchen screen,
Hung an odd bug.
With nothing else to do,
I walked over to see what kind it was.

After pondering it a moment I said,
Why, it's a Mayfly come to bug.
But now in mid July?
With no mate to buzz, very alone I felt it was.

Now long past when,
It should have been a bug.
Summer was half past,
It's month to be...was.

It stayed there throughout the day,
Minding it's business, that of being a bug.
It was quite well mannered for it's kind,
As an uninvited guest at my evening's dinner it was.

I found by the light of next morning's sun,
Gone was my quiet little friend the bug.
A later bloomer I guessed,
Better late than never, he was.

 

doug thornhill (dct)