By Judy Terry
I know a woman
who tamed a fly
to be her pet.
No, it wasn’t I.
I would have
found my swatter
I have no time
for a bussing squatter.
You know the old saying,
Someone wouldn’t hurt a fly?
Surely, that’s a myth, I thought
Until I saw it with my own eye
She had covered her food
or tucked it away.
So what did this pet eat?
I heard someone say
She had an answer for that
to the skeptic in the room. She
put out crumbs and juice and my,
how that fly could zoom.
But how long was he there?
A week went by.
It was time to open the door
and let the fly, just fly.
She was sad, of course.
and shed a tear.
But just then a new fly
came in, touched her ear.
I will keep this one, too
she smiled and said,
I’ll put out some juice
And then I’m off to bed.
___
Judy Terry has written a gardening column for twenty-seven years which is published bi-weekly
in the Iowa City Press-Citizen. She belongs to the Gray Hawks Fortnightly writing group.