In the throes of death

I watched a fly die this afternoon.

I was trying to read a book in the Seminary commons, but a persistent and sporadic buzzing kept distracting me. I looked over to see a fly on its back, about 10 feet from me, buzzing and flailing its little fly legs. It couldn't aright itself. It couldn't fly. It couldn't move. Then it quit struggling, and I thought that was surely the last of the fly. I sort of mourned its death and thought again about the transience of life and what it must be like to be in the last moments of life before death comes...

I returned to my book and shortly thereafter the buzzing started again. This time I cared less about the stupid fly and just wanted to be left to read my book in peace. It buzzed, it flailed, it ceased, it died. And I enjoyed the quiet.