The Prey
early this morning
when i go out of my room
into a garden of trees
and stones
there with all fidelity
the spider is
spinning its web again
in the most usual
and visible manner
connecting a transparent
line from a twig
to another twig of the same
tree
soon another fly
or mosquito shall be caught
as its
unwary prey
the victim never learns
a thing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
