Weaving my Days {a #poem}

If I was inside
not here–away–
I’d miss the rickety sounding
chip, chip, chip
of the cautious squirrel
feasting on my deck.

I’d be still and safe
and sure of my surroundings
but could never feel
this lacy, lingering, gentle breeze
lilting along the leaves of the trees.

My eyes would rest on the all too familiar
white walls and picture frames
instead of viewing
the silvery gossamered, billowy
waves of the web
from this everyday spider,

a dot in the middle of
his wavy-walled home
clinging, sure of his boundaries,
never doubting for a moment
he’s exactly
where
he
should
be.

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7 thoughts on “Weaving my Days {a #poem}

  1. Cheryl, this is my 'small place' for poetry, a place I generated way back when (a year and a half ago)when I found an avenue for the 'other words' that Jesus gives me.Thanks for reading!

  2. How? How have I missed this blog, altogether? Or maybe I've been here and my brain is just doing that thing it does these days?I'm feeling the breeze here too, at my keyboard.

  3. Anonymous says:

    cloistering ourselves away may sometimes feel safer, surer, but how much we would miss of the natural world… and I like that subtle comparison I read in the final lines – for me, makes the whole very personal

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