Hanging above my head as I went to take out the trash.
Winter Spider
She silently slid on her tendril of web,
Her pale squashy and globulous body
Making its way to the gray hardness of the concrete slab below.
Blowing in the wet wind
She struggles to keep a steady pace
Down.
Thwarted by a straw broom
Tumbling
Early arrival at the intended destination
Too soon to the gray mark.
A person, artist, chef and beader at a loss of what they should do. Stumbles & falls on mental blocks... leaps & flies for creativity. Chew on the interesting little tidbit and be amused.
Stumble this
1 comment:
Good job Bunch. (-:|)> (An attempt at a shaggy face.
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