Two spider webs
strung between tree and bush,
one above the other.
Visible only in
the sun.
Month: September 2015
Invisible Threads #2
The crumpled brown leaves
twist and turn on their
invisible spider threads.
They hang from the eaves.
Across the street, hammering
as my neighbor’s roof is
repaired after years of blue tarp.
The leaves slowly spin
toward the ground as
the threads lengthen.
It rains.
They’re gone.
Reunions
Looking through
the camera,
she remembers
St. Louis reunions
and fireflies.
Long Poem
“Open Air Nude” Clarence H. White
The long poem was
daunting.
Took me days to read.
Now I can’t stop.
The Neighbor’s Dog
- “Chomping Chocolate” Hulton Archives Ghetty Images
A car horn blows,
the neighbor’s dog
dodges across
the street. He’s
doomed.
Heather
“Three Children” William H. Johnson
“Heather,
Soon, I will see your four daughters…” Amanda Adams
Heather – a poem not
for me,
I thought,
though I too
have four daughters.
Fear
“Eavening Dragon” Roger Dean
“I like to tally my fears – A game I play, as if there could be a winner” Terry Holzman
It was up on the hill, way back
behind my house.
In the Mississippi winter,
when the leaves
were off the trees,
I could see the lights
at night. A little house,
far away up the hill.
Why did I fear them,
up there,
unknown?
August #2
Postcards sent in 2014, Kristin Cleage
It’s only August,
the yellow leaves
swirl down from
the tree, dancing.
The Leaf
The leaf blew
slowly
across the window
and came to rest by the path.
Breakfast
- “Pompus Boy” William Sommer
While chewing his
scrambled eggs, he
looked across the
table, perplexed.
