Last Sunday (Poem)

Last Sunday (Poem)

I ate a bug last Sunday
biking uphill with morning sunrays.
Between the huff and puff
one small fly went straight right up,
I could not catch it fast enough.
Before I know it, another landed
right inside my mouth like a jet
I did not let.
 
It reminds me the rainy days of summer
in my village where fields, mountains are friends
and the house is where the day ends.
Sitting in rows for dinner in the foyer
rain dripping in spurs
three dingy lanterns lighting
circling them were flies fighting.
When the winds and rain blows the light away
some of those flies lands on our food anyway
Grandma tells us to eat in hurry
or else “you will be eating bugs in your curry.”
I am sure I ate few bugs no matter how fast I ate
It was not all that bad as far as I can say.

I told my son about what I did last Sunday
You are weird dad”, he said in a funny way
I also told my wife about it
You behave younger than your son day by day.
I do not know what crazy things will you do
when you retire after a decade.
Now that I wrote a small poem about it
all my friends will say
Hmm! he is getting weirder day by day 
what strange things he will do next ”,
some may now drop me from their list
of inviting me on Sunday at least
but I am sure when I tell it to young nephews and nieces,
they will say, “Awesome! does it taste like sour candy!

August 5, 2017
(Dedicated to my young nieces and nephews who visit each summer, we have lots of fun making “Oompa-Loompa” song and drinking T-pumps!)

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