I steer my obeisance with intention, empowered

in good cheer, I peer into the clear pool of night’s infinity

gaze at showers tiny fireflowers emanating in the distance.

I pause and smell the scent of pine,

Refining the thoughts that tonight holds

shrouded in promises to the starlight

I feel

                S u r r

                          o u n

                d e d 

by            s_p_i_d_e_r               w____e___b____s



     < past <


That cloud my vision in a haze of self-pity

I dive into grace to retrieve the reprieve

I can’t see my fingers that beckon to the quadrantids.

Clearing cobwebs, a patch to gaze through

at the stars again …

…the remembrance of grace

for the infinitely finite duration of the falling stars

permeates – my/our – existence

then I slip back, pulled into the web

of thoughts and things

and the stickiness of the haze of regrets.