20 April ~ Poetry Postcard Project

KINDRA McDONALD

What follows me around in dreams are always flying things 
however the world stalls and stops or starts again 
each spring there is an order to things. First 
the tent caterpillars crawling in the eaves
hugging brick and window, gutter and garage
curling into crescents. Next the birds ravenous 
and ready they eat their fill 
sticky with silk threads, last the flies
eating all that’s left.

How flies rise from the dead 
lay their eggs in cocoons, survive 
the winter, the war, the plague. 
It’s the little things that run the world.