I Am Bewildered

there is that spider
spinning its house of memories

trapping some flying strangers
wrapping them
putting them in a warped time
eating them

is it mourning now?
one hears the sound of the falling of the leaf

now on the river
spasmodic to a distance

rushing rustling rubric
breaking finally at the junction

of cataclysm
change and destruction and then

the inner peace of the pond
that runs dry

consumed by itself
to the pebbles numb to the sun

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!