It Happens Every Spring Poem by Raymond Farrell

It happens every Spring
Now, that the weather is pleasant
Not too cold
Not too hot
Just right
I walked the trail
Beside the river
Stopping to sit
On one of the benches
The setting was idyllic
Birds chirping
Sunny out
But enough shade
To make it pleasant
My mind was drifting
Here and there
Peacefully
With the ebb and flow
That goes with contentment
When out of the blue
A black fly bit me
A minute flying fiend
Black as pitch
She likely hatched
From eggs laid
In the nearby Don River
Invariably, she helped herself
To a chunk of flesh
To satisfy her appetite
(I say she because males feed on nectar)
Before I could locate the fiend
She had flown off
In search of another victim.