by Sparks In Shadow
In December, the midwest, a fly journeys outside my window, past the storm sheet, moving along the screen’s rim, as if searching. Shock from yesterday gives way to today’s wonder at tiny legs and fragile wings going unfrozen, though slowed, through air that my naked limbs would cry out against.
Science informs that her winter crevice has escaped her. She searches for her place to sleep and wait for warmth, as do I, her reason eclipsing my need to quiet demons of my own making.
Tomorrow, waking again from haunted dreams, chasing devils, will this memory stir my waking mind?
Inspired by the fly.