Fly Walks the Painted Track

The housefly moves along the windowsill in short straight lines. Its legs brush the layer of dust that settled overnight. A crumb from yesterday's toast lies near the corner. The fly pauses there, touches it with quick feelers, then turns and retraces the same path back. Rain taps the glass from outside. The fly does not stop or change direction. It keeps to the narrow strip between the frame and the pane, as if that strip were the only ground that mattered.