A morning meadow Is a place for prayers Long summer blades of grass bowed Under the weight of asking In darkness Spiders repetitive supplications woven Into silken threads Adorned with the glistening generosity of fog To be burned off in the blazen light of day
A fattened spider and a tattered sacrifice will be all that remain Flapping in the afternoon breeze A reminder That we are all just trying to survive.
This is such a beautiful poem (and prayer). Especially since the orbweaver we have been watching/ coexisting with on the deck all summer was gone this morning.
Beautiful!