It’s October and it’s getting kind of cold.
Cold toes bother my friends who are old.
Not just people, it bothers all the others.
Tiny, tiny piglets and their suckling mothers.
Insects, have it the absolute worst.
They don’t have clothing, they are cursed.
I saw a fly on my wooden window sill,
Moving slowly, almost staying still.
I felt pity and decided my course:
Needles to knit and hair of a horse.
I made tiny pullovers for flies.
With tiny wing holes and warmers for eyes.
Making them was easier than putting them on,
I caught a fly and second later – gone.
The well-chilled ones were the ones that stayed,
Wings in the holes and then, well played.
One yellow, one red and one bright green.
These are my flies, my clothed flying beans.