To a Black Fly (after Robert Burns)

Wee, sneaky, creeping, fiendish fly,

Hobgoblin of June and July,

When you come flitting through the sky,

The balmy air,

Oh, what an itch around an eye

And in my hair.

Maine is an earthly paradise

Except for all that snow and ice,

And spring and summer are quite nice.

People survive

Although we have to pay your price,

Devoured alive.

Oh, black fly, black fly, let’s not fight.

Dear imp, we both are in the right.

I won’t slap you if you don’t bite

For once today.

You really are a lovely sprite

In your sly way.

Jonathan Sisson’s poems have appeared in The Paris Review, Northern Sky News and the Maine

Times, among other places. He lives in Eastport and is principal playwright with the Peregrine Puppets.