Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero

  • June 6, 2016
Categories
All My Friends Are Insects
Dead and dying termites outside our window this morning after a recent storm. 
Little Fly
Thy summer's play,
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink & sing;
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength & breath;
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
The Fly (William Blake, 1794)