The following poem is my response to Crispina’s Creative Challenge #27. The poem is based on a too-true experience. 😉 I do hope you will pardon me, Crispina, for adding this unsavory detail to your lovely photo.
The Fly on My Nose
My eyes on the far distant green,
and the purest white blossoms between,
toward the bright scene I incline
admiring the tones opaline.
Closer goes my nose to that pane
my eyes sweeping over terrain…
When some blip urges me to glance down
to a dot by my nose — and I frown.
Ick! Almost my nose touched that fly
that fuzzy black dot, ’til my eye
could focus and signal my brain
to jerk swiftly back on the rein.
Oh, gross! To think I almost mashed
my nose against that bit of trash.
But how many times can it be said—
our focus on far field is spread,
not seeing the end of our nose—
we often bring on ourselves woes?