A Walk in the Wood

The blue-ness of the clear sky asks – demands –
to lighten every next step.
And the scent of ash and dogwood tree
do robustly push me along.
Wonder I, softly, this chorus center be –
Heaven sent or songbirds of field they.
Nether I, worldly, do God’s treasures accept –
such as these might last my eternity –
Tucked away serenely, saved alone for me.

And what should see, come upon us –
in these wildwood trees of colors so grand?
Nestled amongst the shaded floor –
‘twixt the sprouted saplings there
should find a creature grandly divine –
Spinning, webbing her silken thread –
toiling high wires so delicately fine.
The she-spider gliding along –
in her own geometric world –
Hop, hop, hop and stitch –
moving right along –
her very life a true love song
garnishing her moment in time.
And safely stowed deep away
…………..in her silky little patch –
are things of generations yet to come –
tiny spiders not yet born –
in their tender egg sac – but soon
for all this world to see….

Fly, baby spider – glide along –
time to scoot along to your own home…
Pray thee, not to look down –
else to find father – with missing crown –
left where mother killed – and laid him down.
His body, shrunken, coiled upon the ground.
Withered, and cold – yet clasping still –
that last after-sex cigarette – ash burnt down…
Fly away, little spider, fly away
No love here to be found……
Only cigarette ashes and fallen stars…..
Only the first of your many scars.
.
.
..
….
…….
……….
……………
……………………………………..
© 2015 John Allen Richter
………………………………………