When dusk draws nigh

Tiny as they are; they seem high

Up up above the sky

With wings, flanks and toes that fly

One would have marveled at their style

Forming a wriggly mesh like patterns in die and tie

They’ve been up for long still dancing in the sky

With their wings and thigh

The only music I hear is their horrible cry

Though muffled to man, they’ll hear themselves with pitch so high

They’ve been screaming, why?

Why why?

But they dance around like they’re confused and shy

Forming uneven symmetry that can never form a tile

They must be crazy and sly

But their number is a mammoth fly

No question asked would have brought a reply

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