Slanting afternoon sun shines in through a door
illuminating dust motes in the air.
They spiral awhile to a jig all their own,
when a drone in my ear starts me out of reverie.
a fly so noisily buzzes around-over and under and back again-can I never have a moment to think?

Always some fly buzzing wherever I turn. I rest my cheek against my horse's side and begin to ponder-so many flies in this world.
Who is fighting who, some new baby born without parents
what to eat, what to wear, who to like.
My head is spinning like a Christmas top.
I grab a saddle and head out the door.

Who am I? Who can tell. What is real and what is fake? Millions of flies buzzing around my head now-I need to break away and breath, just breath before I explode.
One surge and ground flies away beneath me in a blur of green. Hooves drum the dirt trail and wind rushes over my face.
One body, two hearts now-neither touching earth.

Finally with a gasp we pull up in a field,
This is me, this is who I am
and all uncertainty and turmoil are left behind.
Flies drone on out in the meadow but I don't mind,
I know how to fly.