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There was a transitory spider’s web
clinging to a metaphoric branch of
birch that I undid stupidly touching
it as I was going down the mountain
side, the troubled spider in the middle
clinging to a strand of its work in the
wind. Happily I see what I had hoped
to see climbing back up. The web is here
again. Dear spider, you do not know how
glad I am that you’ve done what I’d undone
delicate, strong and glistening. These words
will be a sign post telling the passer
not to reach for your tantalizing string.
The poem touches and leaves it hanging.

Drawing by Akram.


  1. Posted 19 Oct ’12 at 7:20 pm | Permalink

    Sweet and svelte, Sirrah!
    Nuovo stil dolce…

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