Kasink could not fly.
He dreamt of wind and clouds and sky
But it would be a laughing lie
To say he ever got as high
As a dreary sigh.
Kasink made a plan.
He had a thought turn to demand,
“Fly” was free, bug and command,
He’d have all three and drop the land
For something far more grand.
Kasink set a snare.
He captured countless flies with care,
Tied each one to one of his hairs
And at long last he was prepared –
He would know the air.
Kasink flew on up!
This was his life’s one great triumph!
Controlling flies had him quite stumped,
They flew him in a buzzing clump
Straight to the closest dump.
Illustration by Anni whose art can be found at @annifduluth.