The window is clear, the glass perfectly round
The outline of petals appear one by one.
The spider works casually moves without sound
My presence ignored, a trap patiently spun
Go home little fly as fast a you can
for you there is something more deadly than man.
Moisture formed pearls cling to delicate strands
As autumn rolls through with her coolness of air,
Trees bend; try to ward off invisible hands
each leaf knows by instinct which colour to wear
Hang on aging leaves for as long as you can
For your fate is surely the same as for man.
A brief time of twilight a promise of darkness
The drama outside is now hidden from sight.
Neither I nor the spider will dwell on unfairness
Before beauty fades blinds are drawn on the night.
(Roan /Aug. 2011)
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