The beautiful green that glints to iridescence

 

—of the rotund flies—

​

upon the indistinct decay

has obviously drawn my eye

despite the noxious bearers and their meal

 

the presence of which upon my kitchen floor

or counter would drive me to stamp the former,

wipe the later then disinfect the domestic surface—

 

but now in the spring sun

 

their carapaces are lively—emerald—viridian—

striking jewels scintillating in the light

that strikes—welcome in the west breeze

 

that moderates this day from its occidental

home on the horizon at this moment unseen

but understood as the carrion creatures

 

have pinned the gaze upon their facets,

which transcend the facts of their insect-species

existence that relies upon the decomposition

 

of what once offered its live beauty to any

critters of sensibility or otherwise passing by