The spider in the garden works at night
With deliberate care it spins and weaves
Between branches where bats feast in delight
When nothing can be heard upon the leaves
Patient care is taken in artifice
For the unwary in silks to be shook
Ensnared within that infernal device
Then a Doctor says, “We will have a look.”
And there in the image I see the webs
Spreading delicate strands through damaged brain
My mother now silent with breath that ebbs
Sounds of life support the only refrain
I look out in the dark at the garden
And then I ask the spider my pardon
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Thank you for your entry! Placed under poetry. For those wanting to compete in this year’s writing contest, the deadline is May 15th!
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