This cobweb of rain heavy laden
with unexpected fall low slung
belonging to someone else now
a hundred others a hundred
droplets caught in your fine filaments
spanning the evergreen shrub tips
everything holding everything
so nested have we become
even a glance fills up our work
and our interest in wings
fills us with what not despair
hope released perhaps we know
we were always headed somewhere
somewhere more than a scratch
marked on the wall the primtive
calendar a collander standing
in the kitchen holding some things
while others fall through
all our lives following what we thought
was substance taking it up to our mouths
taking it inside while all along
we might have seen
what keeps moving
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