Fly herding.
Thing?
Not at 12:49 PM this Saturday.
Nudged by John Haydon, starchy Buddhist
I hand-tried my second-best to sweep a
boing-boing confused fall fly
out around (yeah, almost!) past my office screen
instead dislodging Ashley's hanging by fishline
blown-glass Northern Cardinal trinket
which broke across my work desk like a junkyard of pointless adjectives
as I herded the fly to
no end I ever saw
tally: one blown-glass cardinal wing
now some feathers shorter than the other opposing
Broken's good, right?