Two Poems

I spent several hours putting these two poems together, so I'll share them with you rather than launch into another of my laments for what this country has become. There will be time enough for that because I'm never going to run out of lamentable subjects concerning this country. But poetry . . . well, you cannot get poetry every day. Enjoy.

Crepe Myrtle

So puffy in pink just weeks ago,
you throw yourself
to the winds.
Cursed.
An aura of ice
wraps the dusk about you,
the rustle of remnants
a final prayer
at your feet.


Spider Web

Invisible in bright sun,

her web quivers into sight

in dark shadow, washed

in pale street light.

An eighth wonder, this intricate

fragility docked to brick
and wood like a shrimper
in from the grey Gulf,
bobbing in breezy repose,
nets bunched, catch bundled
and stowed below.

How nimble this tiny weaver,
schooled by mute impulse,
spinning complex equations
of proportion, balance, and cunning craft
out of thin air.
Strands so slight,
tenuous and spare,
casual masterpiece,
hanging by threads,
barely there . . . beautiful.

And temporary as tomorrow.