POEM: ‘It’s party-time and you’re the snack!’

May 26, 2026

By Linda Swift

The Black-Fly Fling—

The snow is gone; the mud is too

And swarms of insects welcome you

For, ah, it is that time of year;

Those nasty little flies are here

And every move seems to incite,

Resulting in another bite

There’s no reprieve from their attack

It’s party-time and you’re the snack!

(No need for any fancy dip,

And who eats one potato chip?)

A frenzied dance before your eyes

Performed by troupes of teensy flies

And frantically you join right in

You know the moves, now let’s begin!

A slap, a stomp, a waving hand

In rythym to their silent band.

In ears, and nose, and mouth, and hair

So shake and shimmy everywhere!

Of all the joys of Maine’s late spring,

I’d sooner skip the black-fly fling!

—Linda Swift was a poet and lifelong resident of Bucksport. She passed away on March 1, 2026, and her family is sharing her poems in her honor.

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