an ode to the fruit fly
Yesterday I went
to the farmer’s market
and bought dozens of strawberries,
and felt so brand new.
Red, bright, and sweet
what a delicious treat
filled with wonder
and so
new.
I rinsed off my snack,
and took some time to lie back
as i waited for the
berries to
dry.
As I started pouring them back
into their baskets, I tracked
something odd-looking
at the bottom of
the colander.
It was a small fly,
and at first I thought it had died
but it wiggled its wings
and I worried she
was struggling.
Her wings were wet and I didn’t know
How to get
Her to safety and warmth from her
Haphazard strawberry journey.
I took her outside, and turned the colander gently
in homes that she could dry out and fly off.
I checked on her some time later, and she had made it
halfway out, starting to stand on the colander but
her wings still looked wet.
I smiled, thinking she would likely make it.
But this morning, I walked outside,
and much to
my surprise
she lays still
on the table.
How cruel is this world?
she struggled so much in her final hours
only to be met with
certain demise.
I tried to rationalize and i thought
maybe she was too hurt, and never
could have made it.
or maybe she was just
at the end of her life.
But it wasn’t fair---
she tried so hard. I tried so hard.
she did everything right.
Yet try as she might,
as much as I’d like,
she still lies still on the table.
5/19/26 958AM
