Pane You'd think he should have been content with having half the sky. But no, a model of frustration was this fly. He could not bear the window shut, ’twas not enough to spy the other side: he had to get to there or die. And now he lies a testament upon the windowsill to the intractability of a fly's will. But I've begun to understand the folly of the fly, for there beyond this leaded pane is where you lie.

James B. Nicola

If you've any comments on this poem, James B. Nicola would be pleased to hear from you.