When the haar breathes in from the east,
And the cars smell their way in the white gloom
I see them, on the bushes
As if spread to dry by God
The filigree webs, set by curious spiders
Who spin by night, that we might
See their silver work in the morn-light.
-Be not forlorn-, the webs say
For I shall lift the haar
With the sun-heat of day
And bathe thy feet in warmth
As thou goest on thy way.
A contest entry
- Beautiful Things by Celticjedi.
600 points, ended August 6, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Thank you very much. I am a man of good things. I live life by the basic laws of well being. Following the rules is not enough and I really thank you for reading this and seeing a point of view that might not be shared by the world.
Great thanx again. -
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Sorry this was in the wrong place. was for you comment on fallen angel...
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Very creative! I believe I have seen what you speak of, although they have not given me advice.
Your writing is interesting and well penned. Great job. Thanks for entering, and good luck.
~Cj
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this is indeed a beautiful thing. xx
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yes, these fascinate me. The "Indian Summer" of Germany is known as old woman's summer because of these spiderwebs that appear with dawn and fill the fields with white locks.
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