Sense Sonnet - Pumper

Mayflies Arise

Millions arise from waters where
Born in the way of nature's plan,
The mass moves upward in the air,
Together search in swirling span
Of light be natural or not,
Drawn to the source instinctively,
In totalness of what be sought.
Whatever reason such might be,
The sound and sight of all awing,
Is sensed by any passerby,
Pausing to ponder such a thing,
That briefly lives and then will die.

The swarm of mayflies fly as may,
The lives do last but just one day.