Do Flys Play? Poem by Donna Pelan

While vacationing in New Brunswick
Our family rented a chalet
Way up on the hillside
Facing the Fundy Bay

There were so many of us
I got stuck up in the loft
The slanted ceiling close to my face
The bed was anything but soft

The paneling above my head
Was shiny and warm from all the sun
Some flys had gathered above my head
I shooed them away, and thought thats done

I had trouble falling asleep that night
Too much action during the day
A couple of flys came back to visit
Was it possible that flys play

They`d fly away, only to land
A couple of feet apart
Then they would turn and face each other
With all their energy they would dart

They`d run directly , face to face
And within an inch one would hop
Over the back of his friend and down
And in or about two feet he would stop

Then they would turn and do it all over
With as much gusto as before
I wonder if they had a game play in mind
Was it just instinct or something more

Now, I have watched rabbits play
And squirrels do it all the time
But what about a lowly fly
The nuisance of mankind

Do they have a family waiting at home
Or a soul, the same as we do
Is life any less precious to them
Because it lasts only a month or two

I`m a little more kind hearted now
Empathy is my mission
I take the fly swatter off the shelf
And I count to ten, before I squish em