Does the mayfly
With its day
Fret that time is fleeting
Or like its wingspan
Touch eternity
Tip to tip?

Or in the millions of its kind
Leaping up from the Mississippi
To find a mate
Fly in abundance astounded
Amid the crowded air

Swarming blissful free
Space in excess
To do what life requires
Until dropping
Satisfied spent

Amazed at all that could be done
Exhausted over
Onto the surface of the water
Food for fish
Eggs sinking down

Awed at the space
A world of warm air
Fellow flies?
May we be so grateful
So blessed, too

In our time given
To rise up
To work, to praise
To love, to fly
To fly, to die,
Sighing, “This is plenty.”