For his thirtieth birthday
the lithe White Dog with jet
black hair and fine party shirt
welcomes young and old to share
some time at the harbour gazebo 

The lawn and air are aflutter
with winged biters
minuscule creatures with large
appetites for ankles and shins
voracious appreciation for necks
ears and whole heads
their evangelical zest knows
no bounds 

The waterfront grounds are festive
with games  food  and friends in finery
celebrating the birthday lad
the glorious day
and the giant bubbles shimmering
in the blessed sunlit air
filled though it be with no-see
but sure-do-feel-ems
every salty where 

The Widow Wyile and other behatted
party-goers shimmy on the spot
hoping to deter the flying
weensy yet terribly sharp teeth
they wish birds would flock
in for a Diptera Dinner
but though the adults squirm and flap
as they stand and chat
the children leap and race
from rocks to lawn to path
tossing washers
  bouncing balls
tapping them with croquet mallets
golf clubs and badminton raquets
rush to fill their plates again and again
and now they’ve seen it done
send soap bubbles soaring  

the breeze clears the air
every now and again
hip hip hip for the food
   the mood
many happy returns
            young Zeus!

everyone there is held together
by the sheer joy of gathering
the beauty of the day
feelings greater by far
whatever the exchanged laments
and dancing evidence
than the wee nipper swarms

so good to see you there
beside the bay
amid unseen stingers