![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-NG0eVjTE8WF5FWAxwJUZc-SOAVwPj6yiAThN4oLlZ9sgwWtYfzn9wzg4Covt3OO0y7JBgOSAEmz3X8nUwNzD9bpS0rILjgL3-FZ2EYkWdcNclnWEoLeC1Wu_n3aIqR2HnyuJLBJ-2k/s1600/5623940_f520.jpg)
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck
of the house. From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.
It was hot and still. The tide was out.
No birds sang. As I leaned against the railing
a cobweb touched my forehead.
It caught in my hair. No one can blame me that I turned
and went inside. There was no wind. The sea
was dead calm. I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.
Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath
touches it. A fine thread. Intricate.
Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here.
Art credit: "Spider web painting with spray paint," by witchee1014 (originally black and white).
No comments :
Post a Comment
Thank you for participating respectfully in this blog's community of readers.