Drifting

Flies buzz over a dog

It is far too hot to swat them away

If only it would rain

Then we would not be their prey.

Ill fated little creatures

Better than ticks anyway.

They live to die

They eat and breed their lives away.

Any different from the dog

Who’s just a hungry stray

He barks and runs his life away.

And the man nearby

His role is to live each day

And tell himself he is better

Than those who merely stay

In one place, like the fly

Or in many, like the dog may.

All are the same

All spend their lives every way

They can,

No matter what you say.